


The Chariot of Jagannath

by wtf_jules_verne, WTFTranslation



Series: The Chariot of Jagannath Saga [1]
Category: Vingt mille lieues sous les mers | Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
Genre: Pre-Slash, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-02-08 19:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18629518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtf_jules_verne/pseuds/wtf_jules_verne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTFTranslation/pseuds/WTFTranslation
Summary: Post-Canon – set approximately 1 year after the events of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. After escaping from the Nautilus, Professor Aronnax and Conseil return to Paris. However, they are not destined to return to their normal lives. Aronnax is abducted and interrogated by agents of the British Intelligence Branch. Pre-Slash, UST. Original Author: wtf_jules_verne 'Kerisa' (translation from original Russian text).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtf_jules_verne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtf_jules_verne/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Le Char de Jagannath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18964636) by [AnnaTaure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTaure/pseuds/AnnaTaure)
  * A translation of [Колесница Джаганнатха](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/485743) by Kerisa. 



> Post-Canon – set approximately 1 year after the events of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. After escaping from the Nautilus, Professor Aronnax and Conseil return to Paris. However, they are not destined to return to their normal lives. Aronnax is abducted and interrogated by agents of the British Intelligence Branch. During the interrogation, Colonel Spencer succeeds in identifying Captain Nemo as Prince Dakkar, one of the leaders of the Indian Rebellion. Spencer begins to weave his web of deceit in order to lure Nemo into a trap and capture the Nautilus.
> 
> Warnings: Pre-Slash, UST.
> 
> NOTE: This is an amateur translation of the original Russian fanfic 'Колесница Джаганнатха' authored by Kerisa (wtf_jules_verne). It has been translated with Kerisa's permission. Some minimal wording has been changed for the benefit of ease of reading for English readers however, I hope that I have done this marvelous fic justice in my translation.

Chapter 1:

After escaping from the Nautilus, my friends and I sought refuge in Northern Norway with fishermen from the Lofoten Islands. For a month and a half, we waited for a steamer that would take us to the Northern Cape, from where there was regular transport to the mainland. In early August of 1868 (see notes at the end), Conseil, Ned Land and I finally set foot on the deck of the ship and two weeks later were in Oslo.

Ned Land almost immediately departed us and journeyed home to Canada, while Conseil and I stayed in the capital of Norway for a few more weeks. The French Consulate received us kindly and supplied us with everything necessary however, delayed in returning us to France. I understood why. Obviously, they did not believe our story and tried to make inquiries regarding us through the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It was only at the end of September that we were able to return to Paris – and the very next day we were called to the Palace of Justice for tedious hours of questioning. Conseil and I had to tell, in detail, about our ten-month journey under the water and answer many questions.

What was the nationality of Captain Nemo and his crew? How many people were on-board the Nautilus? What was the name of the ship that was sunk on the second of June? How did the electric battery, the propulsion system of the Nautilus, work? I did not know the answer to some questions, and I did not want answer others, and thus stated everything a little differently than it was in reality. I said that we were captives, though not oppressed, and that we were not given the opportunity to communicate with anyone except the captain, and that most of what happened on the underwater ship remained a mystery to us. I did not give any exact figures and avoided drawing schematics of the Nautilus, describing only the structures of the areas I often visited, namely the dining room, library, saloon, my own quarters and the captain's. I did not recall any co-ordinates and forgot many dates.

Conseil followed my example in everything – that is, he was indifferent and distant in his answers.

I hoped that with the end of this tedious inquiry, our misadventures would also end. How wrong I was!

On the fourth day since our return to Paris, I exited the Museum of Natural History, where I had not been for a year and a half, had scarce taken a few dozen steps along the pavement before two tall men, with military bearing, approached me.

"Professor Aronnax?" One of them asked with a slight English accent.

"Yes, at your service. What do you want?"

"You will come with us."

A carriage stopped next to me and I was rather unceremoniously pushed inside. In the same instant, the whip cracked, and the carriage took off, moving along the cobblestone pavement. Everything happened so fast that I did not have time to make sense of what was happening.

"What's the meaning of all this?" I asked coldly while trying to get up.

"Calm down, Monsieur Professor," one of the abductors answered, grabbing my arm and forcibly pushing me back. "The colonel will explain everything to you."

The second abductor silently squeezed my other arm and did not release me. I felt helpless. The rapidity of the abductors and the timing of the carriage revealed to me that I was dealing with experienced thugs. I thought it wise to submit to them – at least until I meet the mysterious "colonel".

We were sitting on the bench facing the direction of travel – I was in the middle and my assailants on either side. The widows of the carriage were covered with thick curtains. The carriage begun to pick up speed and I soon lost track of where we were and where we were going.

We drove around half an hour or more and for the last ten minutes I felt the pavement give way to a soft dirt road. Even through the curtains, I could smell fresh air and cut grass and realised that we had left Paris. I felt the carriage make several turns and heard the clang of a gate being unlocked. A few minutes later the carriage stopped.

"Follow me, Professor Aronnax," said one of the abductors, opening the door.

I only managed to catch a glimpse of an old country house, surrounded by tall trees, before I was rushed inside. The hall was dimly lit, and I was ushered upstairs into a small room furnished like a library with bookcases along both walls and a large desk littered with newspapers. At the desk, with his back to the window, sat a middle-aged but fit looking man, who immediately rose on our appearance.

"Professor Aronnax?" He asked politely. "I apologize for the rash kidnapping. I am Colonel Spencer. Please, sit down."

He pointed to a chair. I sat down, more intrigued than scared.

Colonel Spencer nodded to one of my abductors who at his signal, left the room, closing the door behind him. The second one stood at the threshold as a guard.

"Professor Aronnax, I will be frank with you, I need your help," said Colonel Spencer. "I know you well and have the deepest respect for you. My nephews are reading your book 'Mysteries of the Ocean Depths'. You are an intelligent man, and I will be honest with you. As you probably already guessed, I will question you about the underwater vessel which is controlled by those who put themselves above justice and humanity, and cause nothing but misery and death. I am talking about the Nautilus and its commander, Captain Nemo. We must stop him."

I took a deep breath, feeling dreary displeasure. Of course, the Nautilus was no less interesting to the British than it was to the French.

"I'm afraid I can't justify your hopes, Colonel Spencer," I replied, and then repeated what I said at the interrogation at the Ministry: "I was held captive on the Nautilus, and I saw very little. Captain Nemo behaved quite kindly and did not oppress us, but he never said anything – neither about himself, nor about his crew or his ship."

Spencer stared at me with clear grey eyes and I saw ice in them. Ice and ashes.

"Never said anything?" quietly repeated the colonel. "But Mr. Land says otherwise. Do you read English?"

He pushed a newspaper toward me. "A month ago, the New York Times published a long interview with Ned Land which would tell me otherwise…"

I began to read and felt a mortal chill creep into my heart. Not only did Ned correctly assess all the dimensions of the Nautilus and sketched a plan, he described the propulsion characteristics, listed measuring devices located in the cabin, and most importantly – made me almost the best friend of Captain Nemo who provided me with a special counsel and respect.

"At the end of May, the military frigate 'Bristol', commanded by my wife's brother Edward Munro, sailed," continued Colonel Spencer. "He went from the North Atlantic to the Faroe Islands. You know what happened to him, Monsieur Professor! My four nephews were orphaned!"

I could not look at him. Again, vividly, I saw crowds of dark ghosts rushing along the upper deck of the sinking frigate – ghosts climbing up the shrouds, clinging to the mast, floundering in the water. I felt the horror, sadness and helplessness of that terrible day, and my intention to keep the secrets of Captain Nemo was seriously shaken.

"The commander of the Nautilus is a ruthless killer, a threat to the entire civilized world." Colonel Spencer continued in cold fury. "If you do not want to be an accomplice to his atrocities, help me stop him."

"Ask," I said reluctantly without taking my eyes off the newspaper, "I'll tell you everything I know."

Contrary to my expectations, Spencer did not ask about the technical equipment of the Nautilus, it was clear that the information provided by Ned Land fully satisfied him. He was much more interested in Captain Nemo himself.

What did he look like? What languages did he speak? What books did he have in the library? What portraits hung in his quarters? Did he play the organ well, and what exactly did he play? What language did the crew speak? Could I remember a few words? And when I repeated the usual phrase of the First Mate "Nautron respoc lorni virch", the guard that stood at the door (I had forgotten about him!) suddenly exclaimed in English with a trembling voice:

"Good Lord, it is Dakkar!"

"Smith!" Spencer snapped.

I was afraid to breathe.

Having fixed his subordinate with a withering gaze, the colonel looked at me and I understood that he was deciding my fate.

"You will stay here until morning, then I will let you go." Spencer said after a few very long seconds. "Smith, take Professor Aronnax to the southern guest bedroom."

He rose from the table and gave me a short nod to indicate that the conversation was over. Smith escorted me from the library, and we walked down the corridor almost to the end of the wing, and then he unlocked one of the doors, pushing me into a room furnished like a cheap hotel. The key turned in the lock – and I was finally left alone.

I rushed to the window but found it to be inlaid with heavy iron bars. Tall trees completely obscured my view, leaving nothing but a sea of green and yellow leaves. I pulled the bars, but they did not give. There was no escape.

I recall that the evening and night seemed unbearably long. At first, I was too anxious to sit still or go to sleep – the name, inadvertently dropped by my abductor, resounded in my head. Dakkar! I had certainly saw or heard it somewhere, but my mind was racing, and I could not remember when and where. I decided that it would be wise to try and get some rest – I did not know what tomorrow would bring. When it began to get dark, Smith came and brought a candle, a jug of water, a towel, and a simple dinner. My jailer avoided my gaze and did not utter a word.

I was outraged by Colonel Spencer's methods, but I could not help but admit that he treated me rather gently. In any case, he fulfilled his promise. The next morning, I was put in the same carriage with the curtained windows and driven back to Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date Changes:  
> I have taken the liberty of changing some of the dates within this text - by moving some forward by a year.
> 
> My understanding is that the journey on the Nautilus, in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, begins in 1867 and ends in 1868.
> 
> Therefore, Professor Aronnax, Conseil and Ned Land would be leaving Norway in August 1868 not 1869 (as originally written by the author) since it has only been a month and a half since their escape. I will ensure to move all dates forward, from this point, by a year.
> 
> If I have stuffed this up, please let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to original author 'Kerisa'. This is a translation of Kerisa's original fic 'Колесница Джаганнатха'. I hope I have done the story justice in my translation.

Chapter 2:

On the doorstep of my apartment, I was met by a dishevelled and unusually anxious Conseil, whose cheekbone was decorated with a purple bruise.

"Monsieur Professor! Thank God!"

"Conseil!" I cried in astonishment. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"The robbers did not hurt Monsieur?" he anxiously searched me with his eyes.

"No. But what robbers are you talking about?"

"They took everything, all Monsieur's records! I tried to stop them, but they would not! Two of them tied me up, real thugs, if you will Monsieur."

My heart felt squeezed by an icy hand. I rushed into my office. It was a complete mess. My working desk was completely gutted with all the draws pulled out – everything that had been hidden was taken. Papers, books, drafts – everything was lying on the floor.

Conseil, the poor fellow, looked utterly miserable.

"Tell me," I said.

And he did. Yesterday evening, at about the same time I was talking with Colonel Spencer, the doorbell rang. Conseil, waiting for me to return from the museum, opened it without fear. Three men stormed into the apartment, two of whom immediately attacked Conseil and tied him up.

"They beat you?" I asked, gently touching the bruise with my fingers and feeling burning anger begin to rise in me.

"With Monsieur's permission – no, Professor! This happened when I tried to get rid of the ropes." He showed me his wrists which held pink marks from the ropes. "They were looking for Monsieur's notes from the Nautilus and asked me about them."

He blinked several times.

"I didn't tell them anything, but they found Monsieur's notes," he added in a quieting voice. "I cannot imagine how these brutes knew about your diary!"

I remembered the interview with Ned Land in the New York Times. Ned knew that I was keeping a diary on the Nautilus – it had never occurred to me to hide something from him.

"Think carefully, Conseil. These people – were they French? What language did they speak to each other?"

"No, they were not French," my servant answered resolutely. "They all spoke with an accent. And they were not German – I would immediately recognize a German accent. I think they were British. Americans and Australians dress and behave differently."

So, Colonel Spender did not count too much on his eloquence and decided to act with force.

I looked at the mess and thought – for the first time in the last 24 hours, clarity of thought and the ability for impartial analysis returned to me.

"Conseil," I said after a few minutes. "Collect our things. We're leaving."

"As it pleases Monsieur," he responded readily.

He did not even ask where we were going. But, in truth, I did not know where yet!

I searched my memory for friends who would be able to help us disappear. Half of them lived in Paris, one had a large family, another was having financial difficulties, and another was quite a gossip. Finally, I remembered my father's old friend, d'Orbigny. He once served as a traveling engineer and took an active part in constructing bridges and railways in India and Indochina, but seven years ago had returned to France and settled in the town Cassis four leagues from Marseille. His wife had passed away, his children grown-up and left home – I hoped that Conseil and I would not cause trouble for him in the large, empty house. In addition, I remembered him as an extremely intelligent person who would be able to give us sound advice.

As soon as I thought about d'Orbigny, something suddenly came to me. I recalled under what circumstances I heard the name Dakkar! Twelve years ago, news broke of the Sepoy Revolt in India and the names of the leaders of the Revolt were on everyone's lips. Nana Sahib, Tantia Topi, Bakht Khan and Lakshmi Bai were widely heard. My father, already bedridden, was anxious for his friend and his family as the rebels were killing Europeans without any distinction to sex or age. D'Orbigny managed to get out through the Principality of Bandelkand, local Raja Dakkar, who, fighting against the British, still allowed civilians to evacuate to the west, into areas that remained loyal to the East India Company. But could this be a link to Captain Nemo? Would the Indian Raja Dakkar be able to design and build the Nautilus? The thought seemed completely ridiculous to me.

So, I unwittingly lead Spencer and his men down a false trail. And maybe they will soon find out.

I went to the window and looked down at the boulevard. I was very nervous and felt spies watching from everywhere. How could I get out of the house without attracting attention? How could I escape surveillance if Colonel Spencer was watching my every move?

"Conseil." I called.

He looked out from the next room.

"What can I do for Monsieur?"

"We are going to Marseille. You need to buy two first class tickets, discreetly, no one can know. I think the house is being watched. I will go to the Palace of Justice for an hour and a half. I think it will distract the spies, if there are any. But in case there are, you will leave the house a quarter of an hour after me and go to my tailor Motu. Give him fifteen francs and ask him to let you out the back door. Then go to Austerlitz Station and buy tickets for the earliest train to Marseille. Then come back the same way. Do you understand everything?"

"I'll do everything precisely, Monsieur, do not worry."

His eyes flashed merrily. It seemed to me that he was pleased at the opportunity to fool the thugs that had ransacked our apartment.

Wasting no time, I went out onto the boulevard, hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to the Palace of Justice. I admit, I was anxious. I felt the sensation of eyes on my back and had to resist the temptation to turn and see if anyone was watching me. Fortunately, I resisted the urge. I knew the men of Colonel Spencer were incomparably more experienced than me and could pass unnoticed but I would have given myself away had I turned.

I arrived at the Palace of Justice without incident and returned with ease. Half an hour later, Conseil returned home with the two tickets. It seemed the plan had every chance of success. The train to Marseille departed at six o'clock in the evening – we just had time to finish packing, wash and change dress.

In order to cover our tracks, I first ordered a cab driver to take us to a large shopping arcade on Port-Royal Boulevard. Quickly transiting the arcade, we hired one of the carriages, of the many lined up, and drove to Austerlitz Station. We had only seven minutes before the train departed!

I hope we fooled any surveillance on us. No matter how experienced and cunning Colonel Spencer was, he was not omnipotent or omniscient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to 'Kerisa'. I am merely the translator. Please note, while all effort has been taken to stay true to the original text some minor adjustments have been made for the ease of English readers.

Chapter 3:

I won't describe our trip as it passed without incident. The next day we arrived in Marseille and hired a carriage that took us to Cassis where we stayed at a local hotel. Leaving our belongings in the hotel room, we had a quick meal at the nearest restaurant, then Conseil and I went to look for the house of Francois d'Orbigny.

Cassis – a beautiful town located on the coast of the Gulf of Lyon. The water of the Mediterranean here is characterized by amazing transparency and a steep, rugged coastline of light layered sandstone. Now, being the end of September, the suffocating summer heat has ended, the air is cool and fresh, and the breeze smelled of the sea. Small houses with whitewashed walls and red-tiled roofs stood out in the greenery of gardens and vineyards.

We passed through the city centre and went to the coast. We travelled down a winding, stony road which followed the bizarre topography of the coastline. The sun had already set, it was getting dark. Finally, I saw in front of me steep brown rocks resembling an ancient abandoned fortress. At its foot were dense green bushes and above was completely devoid of vegetation. This meant we had almost arrived.

The road once again turned, went up, and on the left loomed a high stone fence with a pair of wrought-iron gates. Behind the gate, a path lined by small, light pebbles stretched away. A large two-story house was barely visible behind spreading trees.

I rang the large ship's bell hanging above the gate.

A few minutes later we saw d'Orbigny - an elderly, but still strong, man with broad shoulders, thick greying hair, beard and moustache – walking down the path to the gate. Seeing us, he stopped in his tracks, rooted to the spot.

"Pierre Aronnax?" He asked in a trembling voice. "Lord have mercy, Pierre!"

He opened the gate, literally pulled me inside and turned me to face the dying sunlight.

"I thought you died a year ago!"

"Fortunately, no, but it's a long story."

We hugged. Then d'Orbigny nodded to Conseil, locked the gate and led us into the house, exclaiming loudly: "Madeleine! Madeleine!"

A woman of about forty-five with a friendly round face, dressed in a dark dress and white apron, came to meet us. She stared at me with obvious amazement.

"Madeleine, we have guests. Prepare dinner and two rooms. And have Jacques prepare warm water."

She nodded and disappeared behind the door and we went up the stairs to the porch, and from there into the spacious hall. The decorating of d'Orbigny's house was not particularly refined, but the furniture looked and was comfortable. Our host lit a massive candelabra and brought a decanter of wine, three glasses and sat us at the table.

I saw that he was beginning to recover from his amazement and pulling himself together.

"Pierre, I understand that you have been missing for a year and have now suddenly appeared on my doorstep. Are you in hiding? Do you need help?"

I took a deep breath.

"Hiding, yes. But I don't need help. If Conseil and I are not too much inconvenience for you, I would like to stay here a while. Until I know how to proceed."

"You can stay here as long as you want or is needed. My house is your house. I will tell the servants to keep quiet about your visit."

"Thanks, Francois."

"I see you have no luggage…"

"We left our suitcases in the hotel room."

D'Orbigny looked at me intently.

"I hope you registered under a false name."

I smiled.

"Okay, okay, don't be offended," he clapped me on the shoulder. "I just know that you are not use to such things."

The delicious smell of fried fish was coming from the kitchen and I felt all the anxieties and fears of the past days finally leave me.

D'Orbigny poured us each another glass.

"Tell me what happened to you? Or can you not? The last thing I heard was that you were washed overboard during the battle of the Abraham Lincoln and the mysterious submarine. And since you are still alive, I conclude that the owners of the submarine picked you up."

I nodded. There was no point in hiding from my old friend what Colonel Spencer already knew and God knows how many readers of the darned New York Times.

"As I said, it will be a long story," I warned.

"Well, I like long stories."

And I told him everything. About the Nautilus and Captain Nemo, about our ten-month journey underwater, about the Hecatomb, Maelstrom, and our escape. Madeleine had set the table in the dining room and called for us. We ate dinner and managed to drink two more bottles of Sauvignon. Sometimes Conseil took up the story for me so I could swallow down a few more pieces of the delicious Hake without choking. Then I would take the floor again.

I finished with my return to Paris, being interrogated at the Ministry and meeting with Colonel Spencer.

D'Orbigny listened attentively and did not interrupt me but, when I mentioned the name Dakkar, he shuddered, and his fork fell to his plate.

"If this really is Dakkar, then God help them." He murmured.

My heart pounded in alarm.

"Francois, doesn't it seem absurd to you that some Indian prince…No, I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Please tell me about Dakkar. Did you know him?"

"Yes, we knew each other, but not well," said d'Orbigny. "Prince Dakkar was the eldest son of the Prince of Bundelkhand. The old prince decided to carry out extensive reforms and sent his eldest to Europe to study. He received an excellent education…he spoke French almost without accent and was very good with engineering issues. And if it were not for the Rebellion, it is still unknown how everything would have turned out."

"Tell me about him, Francois. Please."

He stared at me pensively.

"The last time I saw him was eleven years ago, he was about thirty. Handsome. His complexion was like a Spaniard. Bundelkhand nationals look not too different from Southern Europeans."

"What happened to him? What happened to his family?"

D'Orbigny frowned.

"When the rebellion broke out, Bundelkhand at first remained neutral. However, when in June the British were besieged in Kapur, organised by Nana Sahib, the British surrendered in exchange for safe passage to Allahabad. But, under dubious circumstances, this resulted in a massacre of the British. The Prince of Bundelkhand could not make out who was to blame for the massacre. Whole villages were to be hung lest they denounce that the rebels were hiding there. Betrayal always brings forth the worst in human souls, and many in those days rushed to settle personal quarrels. In August 1857, the British entered Bundelkhand, and this happened all over India. Hung, shot, tied to the muzzles of cannons. It was then that Dakkar openly sided with the rebels and defended his Principality for about a year, beating off one attack after another. But in the end, they crushed him too…I thought he was dead."

I was too excited to sit still and had been pacing the room. All the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. However, the picture that was emerging was one of terrifying despair.

I remembered the portrait in Captain Nemo's quarters – a beautiful dark-haired young woman and two children.

"What happened to his family? Do you know Francois?"

"This is a dark story. In the winter of 1859, I was no longer in Bundelkhand, but I will tell you what I heard. There was a traitor among Dakkar's people, his family was taken hostage and sent to the Bhoj fortress. Everybody was taken there – his mother, wife, children, servants…the old Prince had already been killed. The British surrounded the fort with explosives and threatened to blow it up if Dakkar did not surrender. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but one night everything blew up. One hundred and twenty people perished save for the six-year-old daughter of a servant. I was told severed body parts could be found for a mile and a half around the fort, and all the ruins were covered in blood."

I felt numb from the horror. In my mind, I saw old men, women, children, torn to pieces, burnt alive, crushed under the rubble. And I involuntarily remembered the tens of thousands of other Indians hung or tied to the muzzles of cannons. And then I thought about the captured British women and children killed by butchers or left to die in the well of Kanpur. The brutal atrocities of this war, the cruelty of one side multiplying the cruelty of the other, filled me with disgust for the whole human race. For a few minutes, I became disgusted with myself. I did not want to have anything in common with these people – the 'civilized' Colonel Spencer and the 'liberator' Nana Sahib; I wanted to hide, leave forever and never see anyone again. And, like a flash of lightning, I realised the Captain Nemo must have felt the exact same way – unbearable heartache and aversion to people. Now I could read the pages of his soul one by one.

I did not say anything because my eyes began to water and I almost did not hear what d'Orbigny said to me, but then he suddenly appeared in front of me, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me,

"Come now, Pierre," he said sternly. "People kill people – you know this. This story is terrible, but such stories happen around the world every day. You escaped from Dakkar and from Spencer and did the right thing. This is not your war. Let them find out which of them will go to hell first."

Then he hugged me, and – I confess – I let my tears fall on his shoulder.

It was if an old wound had torn on my soul, bleeding memories from the terrible day on the second of June when the Nautilus, in front of my eyes, sunk the frigate Bristol. But this unwelcome reverie gave my feelings an outlet and helped me to pull myself together. After a minute, I felt ashamed of my weakness and pulled away from d'Orbigny. I begun pacing again, trying to calm myself down.

"Sorry, Francois. I don't know what came over me. Of course, you are right."

"The human story is the Chariot of Jagannath," grunted d'Orbigny. "Year after year, fanatics rush under her wheels, year after year she crushes the right and the guilty. Don't stand in her way, Pierre."

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"As you can see, I already did. But the British will not calm down until they sink the Nautilus. Especially now that they know who controls it."

"The British would try to sink the Nautilus regardless of whether or not they knew who controlled it," said d'Orbigny. "You yourself said that the Bristol started shooting at you first. The mysterious submarine was labelled an enemy immediately after the Abraham Lincoln returned to the New York docks."

"Then why did Spencer spend so much effort to discover the Captain's name?"

My friend shrugged.

"I do not know, and I do not advise you to puzzle over it. It is unlikely that we will ever find out his reasons."

Here he was wrong. As it turned out, we would discover them pretty soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Apologies for the shorter chapter, I have decided to split this one into two parts.

Chapter 4:

That day, Conseil and I only went to bed early in the morning, but later we easily adopted the daily routine of the house owner. He would get up at dawn and, if weather permitted, went fishing with his worker Jacques Oray, who was a sailor. The housemaid, Madeleine, made delicious crusty buns and cooked fragrant stews with aioli sauce. When the sun rose over the brown rocks in the East, we had breakfast and after went to wander around the rugged shores of the deep bays that d'Orbigny called 'Calanques'. I slowly collected an herbarium of the native flora of the coast, Conseil helped me, but in truth, it was for the sake of passing time rather than actual scientific research.

The weather was beautiful, and I enjoyed the last days of summer – the soft sun, blue sea, and breathed in an all-encompassing sense of peace.

On the fourth day, the weather turned bad and d'Orbigny went to Marseille, to the public library, which was in the new stock exchange building. The library kept binders of the world's most popular newspapers, and the Paris newspapers were available after a delay of only two days (mail here was delivered by rail). He returned only in the evening, in time for dinner.

"Pierre, did you know that you have been abducted?" Francois announced, chuckling, after he was barely over the doorstep. "And not by anyone! But by Captain Nemo!"

If he had produced a live cobra from his pocket, I would not be so surprised!

"You also became the talk of the tabloids," added d'Orbigny, turning to Conseil.

Of course, we were dying from curiosity, and Francois, not wanting us to suffer, immediately told all that he had managed to learn from the latest Parisian newspapers.

As it turned out, one of the employees of the Museum of Natural History saw two unknown people pushing me into a carriage. The next morning, I had not turned up at the Museum. All day long, this good Samaritan was plagued with anxiety and, in the evening, went to the police. I was quite famous, just recently returned from a mysterious underwater journey, so the police immediately acted. Opening the door to my Paris apartment, police found my office ransacked and signs of a struggle. My neighbours were interviewed. As it turned out, the next morning, none of them saw me! But my tailor Motu did not fail to tell the police how my servant Conseil approached him "with a bruised cheek", looked "extremely suspicious", put fifteen francs in his hand and asked to be let out through the back door, and an hour later returned back the same way.

"Oh, darn!" exclaimed Conseil. "He swore and swore that he would not tell anyone!"

The police concluded that I was abducted by unknown perpetrators and, my servant Conseil, although not directly involved in the abduction, was clearly involved in it.

The tabloid press went on. 'Figaro' published a translation of Ned Land's interview with the New York Times, accompanied by meaningful comments, and the 'Petite Journal' explicitly stated that I was kidnapped by the mysterious and sinister Captain Nemo, whose hands were long enough to reach me even on land. Another tabloid magazine wrote confidently that I was no longer alive and suggested that readers pray for my soul.

I laughed to tears.

"Ah, reporters, journalists…Colonel Spencer will appreciate the irony, I think. Fortunately, Captain Nemo never goes ashore and does not read newspapers, otherwise it really would be worth praying for my soul."

"Do you think he would have tried to kill you?" asked d'Orbigny.

"I took with me his secret, which he kept so guarded, I essentially laughed at him; having done what he considered impossible – escaping – what else would he have done? Fortunately, he thinks we are dead."

Conseil made a move like he wanted to say something but remained silent and lowered his eyes to the floor. D'Orbigny gave him a sharp look.

"You don't agree with your master, Conseil?"

He bent his head even lower and said nothing. I suddenly became anxious.

"Conseil…if you know something, tell us."

"With Monsieur's permission…I first came around on the shore. We were away from the waves…and the wreckage of the boat was not there."

"What boat are you talking about? The lifeboat from the Nautilus?" asked Francois.

Conseil nodded silently.

"You mean to say that Captain Nemo let you go?"

Conseil nodded again.

"He's right, Pierre," d'Orbigny turned to me. "The northern coast of Norway, the water temperature even in August does not rise above twelve degrees Celsius. Usually it is below ten. If you had been in that water for at least an hour, unconscious, the sea would have carried to shore only corpses."

My heart ached painfully. I realised what I was afraid to admit to myself from the moment I returned to Paris. I felt guilty for betraying Nemo. It was much easier to believe he regarded us as enemies, dead enemies, than to realise that we had betrayed his trust, while he not only let us go, but perhaps saved us from the Maelstrom.

Apparently, d'Orbigny had the same thought.

"Yes, If I were Ned Land I would have held my tongue," he said. "Well, what's done is done."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Again, apologies for the shorter chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise!

Chapter 5:

The next few days passed without incident. Due to heavy rain, strong wind and rough sea, we spent most of our time in the house, entertaining ourselves. I began to restore the records made on the Nautilus from memory, Conseil read, d’Orbigny repaired tackles or did something in the shed located in the depths of the garden. In the evenings we had long unhurried conversations over a bottle of good wine, by the cosy crackle of the fireplace.

On the fifth day, the storm subsided, and d’Orbigny, along with Jacques, took a boat to Marseille, to make some purchases and visit the public library at the same time. He returned unusually pensive, even gloomy.

“There is news,” he announced, entering the house.

The news was an article in the New York times with a headline on the frontpage: “A Cinderella Story. The servant turned out to be an Indian princess!” The subtitle read “An English Officer from the Jhansi garrison admitted in confession that he sheltered the young daughter of the rebellious Raja of Bundelkand almost ten years, passing her off as a servant. A simple maid turned out to be Princess Ishwari, heir to one of the richest Indian principalities!”

I felt a cold rage sweep over me.

“This is Spencer.”

“Of course,” responded d’Orbigny.

The article was written by a flamboyant journalist’s pen. Starting with a brief mention of the ‘tragic accident’ that led to the explosion of Fort Bhoj in January 1859 and the death of the hundred and twenty people caught in the blast, he turned a merciful power that saved the life of a six-year-old girl, and the golden hearts of old veteran Thomas Koster and his wife, who were expecting a baby. Afraid of the rebels and his superiors, Koster said the young girl was the daughter of a maid of the princely family. Soon the rebellion was suppressed, Prince Dakkar was killed, but the province remained restless. Koster was afraid to announce the princess, so as not to make her the involuntary banner of the scattered, but not destroyed, rebels. The secret of Ishwari remained undiscovered for almost ten years. Finally, seriously ill and feeling the approach of death, Koster relieved his soul at confession, and the priest persuaded him to confess to the authorities and the colonial administration. In an instant, the poor girl went from simple maid to the nominal owner of one of the richest principalities in India.

“I wonder what this bastard is counting on.” I said, pacing the hall and feeling anxiety squeeze my heart. “That someone will believe him?”

“For Spencer it will be enough if Dakkar believes him.”

“Captain Nemo does not read newspapers.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“No!”

I really wasn’t sure about anything. Of course, Nemo told me more than once that he broke all ties with the civilized world when the Nautilus sailed for the first time, and that mankind was frozen in time for him, but…didn’t I see the diver Nicolas from Cape Matapan with my own eyes, whom the captain gave a chest of gold? If he kept in touch with the Greek rebels, is it completely surprising he may remain up to date with world affairs? So, the unfortunate newspaper may well fall into his hands.

“You see, Pierre, only you and I know that the British government knows the real name of the captain of the Nautilus,” said d’Orbigny. All the newspapers call him Nemo, nowhere has his true identity been revealed. So, he will not associate an article on Ishwari with attempts to catch him. Especially since Koster really saved that girl and half of Bundelkand knows about it. Spencer, I must give him credit, is the master of traps.”

I walked around the room, my mind working frantically.

“If we could somehow warn him…”

“Warn whom, Dakkar? d’Orbigny smiled wickedly. “What are you getting me into, Pierre? Although, I confess, I myself thought about it. But how to do it? Post an advert in the New York Times? Spencer will find out before it is released. Dakkar may see this newspaper in a year, or he may not see it at all, but we will find out for sure. Do not forget, from the point of view of Spencer, you are the only one who can unravel his game. If I were him, I would not have released you. If at all left you alive.”

D’Orbigny’s mind sometimes reminded me of cold steel. He was sharp – but equally merciless. I could not disagree with him. While we could do nothing to help Captain Nemo. It only remained to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to 'Kerisa'. I am merely the translator. Please note, while all effort has been taken to stay true to the original text some minor adjustments have been made for the ease of English readers.

Chapter 6:

Three more months passed, and the situation remained uncertain. The New York Times would occasionally report on Princess Ishwari in the gossip section. We learned that the British government appointed her an allowance, admittedly a modest one, and provided her a house in Allahabad where there was a strong English garrison. Her guardian was the vice-governor of the province.

Did Captain Nemo know about this? God knows! In mid-October, we read that the Nautilus was seen off the eastern shores of Australia – the crew of the Swedish merchant ship ‘Karl XI’ saw it when sailing to New Zealand. A week later, the submarine was seen off the coast of Indonesia, where the American frigate ‘James Maddison’ attempted to attack it with powerful depth charges. However, the Nautilus avoided combat with its fantastic speed and almost immediately dived under water. After that, two months passed without any new sightings.

Finally, in early February 1869, everything became clear. The New York Times published an article that the ‘Indian Cinderella’ Princess Ishwari was invited to the wedding of her second cousin Padmavati Pati, who was marrying the son of the Governor-General of the Portuguese colony of Goa, José Antonio de Carvalho. The wedding was to be held on the 18th of April 1869 in Siolim, in the Catholic Church of Lady Auer. And when d’Orbigny unfolded a large map of India on the table it became clear what Colonel Spencer had in mind.

It was the perfect trap for the Nautilus and Captain Nemo.

Siolim, a tiny town at the mouth of the Chapora River, was only a half mile from the Arabian Sea. The width of the river only reached two-hundred toises (French unit of measurement) before flowing into a lagoon with a diameter of about half a mile. But the strait leading to the ocean was only about two-hundred and fifty toises wide, and Chapora Fort dominated it. The river was easy to enter, but not easy to get out of.

The proximity of Siolim to the ocean would be a strong temptation for Captain Nemo – if he read newspapers and believed in the story that Spencer wove. Fate gave him a chance to regain his daughter – a short and unique chance because after the wedding of Padmavati and de Carvalho, the princess would return to Allahabad and be inaccessible to the Nautilus and under the protection of the English garrison.

“What do you say, Pierre?” Asked d’Orbigny, searching me with his eyes.

“He will come,” I replied. “If he reads the New York Times – he will come.”

“And will fall into the clutches of Colonel Spencer,” d’Orbigny looked at the map again. “This narrowing of the channel is practically begging for several good underwater mines to be laid there.”

My heart sank.

“I’m ready to put a warning in the New York Times,” I admitted.

“Even if we assume that Spencer’s people will let a message print – why do you think that Dakkar will believe you? He lost everyone he loved. Spencer has given him hope; you are going to take it away – do you think he will listen to you?”

I remembered how Nemo sobbed, stretching his arms to the portrait of his family, on that terrible day on the second of June, and I realized that d’Orbigny was right. Nothing will stop the Captain until he himself is convinced that he was deceived. We may already be too late!

And would I have found words to convince him? Or at least make him think?

“Francois, is it possible to find out who is invited to the wedding?”

D’Orbigny stared at me.

“Do not throw yourself under the chariot, Pierre. You will not help yourself or him.”

“He saved my life twice, and I betrayed him. And now if Spencer kills him, and I don’t even try to intervene, I won’t find peace until the end of my days.”

I did not lie with a single word, and yet it was not the whole truth. But I could not tell the whole truth; probably not even to myself.

“What are you going to do?” asked d’Orbigny.

“I will go to Goa and try and get an invite. If Ishwari is not watched too carefully, I’ll try and talk to her. Perhaps the poor girl is forced into a role and does not wish a be a pawn of her father’s enemies. Maybe I can warn the captain or this people. Perhaps I can be useful in some other way. We still cannot foresee everything. And…I’m sorry, Francois, but I can no longer remain idle.”

My friend took a deep breath. It seemed to me that he was not too surprised by my words. His insight sometimes frightened me.

“I hope you understand the risk.”

“Of course, Francois.”

“You’ll take Conseil, yes?”

“Let him decide for himself.”

I called Conseil and told him of my intentions.

“As it pleases Monsieur,” he replied calmly. “I will go and ready our things?”

“Wait,” I said.

My faithful companion stopped and looked at me expectantly, and I suddenly realized that I was not able to find the right words.

“Conseil, please think. You don’t have to go with me. I will not hide that this could be very dangerous. We will very certainly tangle with Colonel Spencer and his people…probably with Captain Nemo. And, most likely, we’ll be caught between the two. Travelling to Siolim will be more dangerous than our journey on the Abraham Lincoln – and you remember how that ended.”

“If you want, you can stay here with me,” put in d’Orbigny. “There is enough work here.”

“Wherever Monsieur goes, I go,” said Conseil vehemently. “And, with your permission, M. d’Orbigny, I will say that it is time for Colonel Spencer to be struck on the nose!”

“Aren’t you afraid that Colonel Spencer will strike you on your nose? So, that you no longer have one?”

“We have a saying in Flanders – seven times not to die,” answered my servant. “I will go and prepare our things?”

D’Orbigny and I looked at each other.

“So, it’s decided.”

Three days after this conversation, Conseil and I were on the deck of the merchant ship ‘Naiad’, sailing from Marseille to French India, to the city of Pondicherry. For a thousand Francs, the captain agreed to make a detour and take us to Goa. On the 15th of April 1869, ‘Naiad’ entered the mouth of the Chapora River and dropped anchor at the pier of Siolim.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a longer chapter!

Chapter 7:

I received an invitation to the wedding reception thanks to the courtesy and connections of Jean-Paul Lacroix, secretary of the Indian Geographical Society – a short, round, talkative person who knew everything in India. We met when we were both students. As it turned out, he had been watching my adventures, had been greatly worried over my disappearance and was terribly glad that I was not only safe and sound, but was at his complete disposal for a few days.

I confess, once again, it was very tiring to tell all the details about the Nautilus and Captain Nemo, but I thought it a small price to pay for the chance to see Princess Ishwari.

On a humid evening on the 18th of April 1869, we climbed the wide marble steps to the elegant colonnade of the Señor de Carvalho palace. The two-story white marble building was one of the wonderful examples of Indian architecture. At the level of the second floor along the entire façade stretched an elegant open terrace, decorated with fine stucco and multi-colored mosaic. The sun was already setting, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers and incense.

Having given my respects to the bride and groom, I went to wander the palace. There appeared to be more than two-thousand people gathered here. I saw women in saris and women in European dresses, men in dress coats and tuxedos, and men in Kurt and fezzes. They spoke English, Portuguese and Hindustani. I wasn’t paying attention.

I was wandering the halls of the first floor, bowing politely to those who acknowledged me, and did not know how to look for Princess Ishwari in this immense crowd. Probably, it would be necessary to ask Lacroix to introduce me to her. However, finding Lacroix was also not an easy task.

In some confusion, I went up to the gallery of the second floor. From here, there was a beautiful view of the palace park and the rocky hill with the fort, watching over the mouth of the Chapora River. Tall trees concealed the horizon from me, but I knew that only a quarter of a league to the west of us the water of the lagoon lapped at the shore, and then, beyond the lagoon and the strait, was the Indian Ocean. It was cooler up of the second floor, and for a few minutes I stopped at the balustrade, turning my face to the golden rays of the setting sun and the soft wind from the sea.

In the distance, red uniforms flashed among the trees. I looked around carefully and realized that the Palace de Carvalho was surrounded by English soldiers.

After wandering around the gallery, I returned to the inner chambers – and almost immediately came across the strangest, most dissimilar couple that you could imagine.

Two women sat on an ottoman of blue silk. More precisely, one woman, and the second – a young girl, almost a child. An Indian girl was dressed in a dark green sari embroidered in gold, her hair was hidden by a richly embroidered robe, and earrings adorned with precious gems and a necklace decorated her ears and neck. The woman – clearly an Englishwoman with a horse face – was clothed in a strict, light gray European dress without any adornments. It seems that the lady in gray said something unpleasant to her companion, she looked absently to the side, her thoughts obviously were somewhere far away.

The girl’s face seemed vaguely familiar to me. I stopped at a distance so as not to attract attention and began to carefully examine her. The more I looked, the faster my heart beat.

The girl was beautiful. She had the large dark eyes of Captain Nemo, high forehead and noble poise of the captain, and same straight nose. The girl’s gentle, child-like appearance softened the familiar features of the commander of the Nautilus, but they stood out quite clearly.

Again, as if before me, I saw the portrait in the captain’s cabin – this girl at once resembled both the woman depicted in the portrait and the captain himself!

I rubbed my forehead, erasing my contemplations. Could I be deceived? Have I become a victim of my own imagination? It was necessary for me to find out who she was, and I resolutely set off to look for Mr. Lacroix.

I found the secretary of the Indian Geographical Society only a quarter of an hour later – and waited another ten minutes until he was finished talking with two important Hindus in blue turbans and richly embroidered robes. And then I rather unceremoniously took him by the elbow.

“Lacroix, you know everyone here. I’ll show you two ladies – tell me who they are, And, if this does not contradict the rules of local etiquette, introduce me.”

He looked at me with amused amazement.

“Wow! I see, Mr. Aronnax, you don’t waste your time!”

And we started to squeeze through the crowd.

I was afraid that the girl and her companion would disappear, but they were on the open gallery next to the room where I originally saw them. I looked at them then looked inquiringly at Lacroix.

“Oh, that is Princess Ishwari, the young daughter of Prince Dakkar!” Lacroix happily told me. “Have you not heard of her? So much has been written in the newspapers! Absolutely incredible, a fabulous story that could only happen in India.”

And he told me the story that I already knew from conversations with d’Orbigny and reading the gossip section of the New York Times.

Apparently, I faked my shock well, because Lacroix smiled broadly and patted me on the shoulder.

“What, are you surprised, my friend, this is India! Anything can happen here!”

“Who is the lady in gray, next to her?”

“Miss Jones? Oh, she is either a governess, or a companion, or a spy of the British government. She never leaves the princess's side. I saw them in Allahabad – they were always together.”

“Can you introduce me? Or will that be inappropriate?”

“Of course, I will introduce you, Mr. Aronnax! Just keep in mind – the princess does not understand a word of French.” And on that note, Lacroix determinedly headed for the ladies. I walked after him, in a panic, trying to remember the polite turns of the English language – they flew out of my head from excitement.

“Princess Ishwari, Miss Jones, may I introduce to you my friend Pierre Aronnax, professor of the Paris Museum of Natural History and author of the wonderful book ‘Mysteries of the Ocean Depths’,” Lacroix said ceremoniously in English.

I bowed low.

Miss Jones looked at both of us with displeasure. But Princess Ishwari looked at me very attentively, even eagerly.

“It is a great honor to meet you, Your Highness,” I said. Apparently, my pronunciation was far from ideal since I saw Miss Jones’ eyes flash in contempt.

“The wet season this year began earlier than usual, the stuffiness is just unbearable,” Miss Jones said coldly.

“Yes, indeed, it’s quite humid,” I agreed carefully, although here, on the gallery, the fresh breeze from the sea gently pulled.

“Did you notice, Professor Aronnax , that the layout of the local buildings greatly aids in cooling? Here, everything it thought out to the smallest detail,” and Miss Jones confidently spoke about the architecture of the Palace de Carvalho, about the history of Siolim, about the church of Lady Auer, in which Padmavati Pati and José Antonio were interwoven today by the bonds of marriage. Lacroix deftly bowed and took his leave after the first ten phrases uttered by this highly educated lady.

The princess was silent, not raising her eyes. Her face remained calm, but from the slight fluttering of her nostrils and slightly pursed lips I understood that she would hardly restrain her anger.

At some point, Miss Jones moved from architecture to painting, and then I found it appropriate to insert a word.

“You are correct, Miss Jones, local painters often make remarkable works. Recently, I saw a wonderful portrait worthy of the brush of Raphael himself – a portrait of a beautiful woman in a lilac dress and a dark purple shawl and with two children.” I turned to Ishwari. “Something about it reminded me of you, madam.”

I knew the risk of describing so clearly the portrait that hung in the cabin of Captain Nemo. But if this girl really is his daughter, and I confess I was ready to believe it, she should remember how she was painted. Right under the nose of a spy, probably enlisted by Colonel Spencer himself, I asked Ishwari a question, to which so much rode on the answer.

“Miss Jones,” she said softly and politely. “It’s so stuffy here, let’s move.”

We moved along the gallery. I noticed that the sun had almost set, and the last colors were burning over the sea. To the north the sky was high and faded, without a single cloud, but in the south heavy clouds bloomed. By night the weather could deteriorate.

The servants of de Carvalho had already lit the gas lamps, and the space around the palace was lit with a warm light. The terrace became even more crowded as guests came up to breath the fresh air flowing from the west, from the ocean.

Walking through the gallery from one end to the other, we stopped by a large pot in which grew a lush bush, covered with large white flowers which emit an intoxicatingly sweet scent. Nearby, two elderly ladies were having a lively conversation in Portuguese. The princess plucked a flower and brought it to her face.

“What a delightful fragrance,” she said as if to herself.

Miss Jones sneezed loudly. A minute later she sneezed again and frantically began to fumble in her purse in search of a handkerchief.  Her eyes were watering, and her face went red. She looked at Ishwari with hatred, then hissed, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Ishwari grinned triumphantly.

“She cannot stand the smell of Jasmine.”

And then she looked at me quickly – and the smile on her face was gone.

“Where did you see that portrait?” She asked, quietly demanding.

“In the cabin of one of my friends…captain-”

“Captain Nemo?”

I was numb with amazement.

The princess stamped her foot impatiently, her eyes gleaming feverishly.

“I read the newspapers. Koster allowed me to read them, and books too. He was a good man, even though he was an Englishman. I read about the Nautilus. Tell me, where did you see that portrait?”

“Yes, you are right princess. I saw it in the cabin of Captain Nemo.”

Ishwari quickly looked back toward the room where Miss Jones had gone.

“The girl in the portrait was wearing a light-yellow dress, and she had a peach in her hands, right? What was the boy dressed in? Tell me!”

“Yellow dress and peach! We are definitely talking about the same portrait.” I closed my eyes, evoking the image, so I could describe the boy’s clothes.

“I remember how this portrait was painted,” Ishwari said in whisper. “I remember how we were seated next to my mother, and Malati gave me a peach so that I wouldn’t fidget so much. I remember a lot. Koster wanted me to forget, he said if someone found out they would kill me, like how my mother, father, and brother, and everyone else were killed. But they didn’t kill father, right?”

I could barely breath from excitement.

“No, they did not kill him,” I answered in a whisper, too.

“When I was little and we still lived together, he often told us stories. About an underwater palace…he said…”

And then Ishwari looked over my shoulder, and her face suddenly became empty. As if a house, wide open, doors slammed, and shutters tightly shut. She lowered her eyes and put her hand on the balustrade, and I notice that the tips of her fingers had turned white.

At first, I thought that Miss Jones was returning, but then I heard slow, not at all feminine steps, and a voice that was familiar – too familiar! – from the sound of which froze my heart at once, mockingly said:

“Professor Aronnax? What a nice meeting!”

It was Colonel Spencer.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to original author 'Kerisa'. This is a translation of Kerisa's original fic 'Колесница Джаганнатха'. I hope I have done the story justice in my translation.

Chapter 8:  


I knew from the very beginning that I would almost certainly meet him here – and yet it took me a few seconds to regain my composure. I turned around, bowed slightly to him, and said as calmly and politely as I could:

“Good evening, Colonel Spencer.”

He gave me a mocking bow and looked at Ishwari.

“Where is Miss Jones?”

“Miss Jones went to the bathroom,” the princess replied without raising her eyes.

However, I did not hear a princess. Ishwari now spoke with the demure intonations of an obedient and modest English maid. The girl had nerves of steel.

“Wonderful! Just perfect!” remarked the colonel sarcastically as he persistently glanced around the room. He then turned to the arch leading to the inner halls of the palace, and we saw Miss Jones approaching with a stiff face and trembling lips.

“Good evening, sir,” she said, crumpling her handkerchief.

“Miss Jones, be so kind as to escort Princess Ishwari to her chambers,” Spencer ordered in an icy tone.

The companion nodded quickly and turned to Ishwari. The princess, not looking at me, left the gallery with Miss Jones somewhere in the direction of the southern wing.

“How do you like Siolim, Professor Aronnax?” kindly inquired Spencer in French. There was no longer ice and ash in the colonel’s clear eyes – only a cold glow of excitement.

“Beautiful town,” I replied.

“Waiting for your friend, Captain Nemo?”

If Spencer hoped to shock me, then nothing came of it. I would not bite and shook my head.

“He will not come.”

“He told you this?” the colonel asked with obvious irony.

“It will likely surprise you, but yes, he did. A year and a half ago, when we first sailed together on the Nautilus. The captain said that he did not read newspapers, was not interested in what was going on in the world he had left and did not want to find out. You have set a good trap for him, but he will not even know about it.”

Spencer looked at me searchingly and the grin on his face disappeared. It seemed I managed to hurt him.

“If you are so sure of that, Professor Aronnax, why did you come here?”

“I wanted to meet his daughter.”

“And what do you think of her?”

“Beautiful girl,” I replied indifferently.

“Looks like him?”

“Yes, quite similar. But, I confess, for me, all Indians are a bit alike.”

The look in Colonel Spencer’s eyes was piercing. I knew that I would not be able to fool him. But I still had a chance to mislead him. For this, it was necessary to tell him the truth – with some omissions.

“The Paris newspapers wrote that you had been kidnapped,” he remarked, leaning on the balustrade and looking somewhere into the darkness.

“The Paris newspapers always write something…” I made a vague gesture with my hand. “I left of my own accord.”

“Feared our next meeting?”

“Rather, meetings with your colleagues from Prussia, Austria, Hungary, Russia, America, perhaps even Turkey…”

Spencer shot me a brief, approving look.

“You are a pleasure to deal with, Professor Aronnax. It is a pity that you chose the wrong side,” Colonel Spencer said honestly, letting out a small breath.

“I have my own side, Colonel Spencer.”

I also leaned on the balustrade. Gas lights brightly lit the lawn and the flower beds around the palace, but the distant surroundings were already hidden by the darkness of the night. The bulk of Chapora Fort almost merged with the sky and the sea. Movement below drew me from my contemplations – along the path beneath us were three English soldiers. One of them towered over the other two, my heart sank.

It was the very sailor who accompanied Captain Nemo and I on the hunt in the underwater forests of Crespo Island! And next to him was the captain’s First Mate and the sailor whom I often saw on the deck of the Nautilus.

The captain’s First Mate looked up and our eyes met.

My heart skipped a beat, and then it felt like it was pounding in my throat. For a couple of seconds, we looked at each other, and then I calmly took my eyes off him. I was afraid that Spencer would hear my heart beating or see who I had been looking at.

However, I was lucky – the colonel did not look at me. He was looking into the distance, toward the sea, and a cold, predatory smile formed on his face.

“Say, Captain Nemo does not read newspapers?” he asked insinuatingly.

For a moment, I was overwhelmed by a panic that I had in some unknown way betrayed myself and the crew members of the Nautilus, but Spencer stretched out his hand toward the fort, and I saw a small flickering light at the top of the hill.

“What is that?” I asked. “It looks like a fire.”

“That is a signal, Professor Aronnax. And it means that the Nautilus has entered the mouth of the Chapora River.”

I started at the colonel, no longer hiding my shock. Well, I had every right to look amazed now.

“The Nautilus has entered the mouth of Chapora?” I repeated, sounding confused.

Spencer shot me a mocking glance.

“You really didn’t expect this, Professor?”

I looked again at the dark bulk of the fort that dominated the strait and the flickering light of the signal fire. If the crew members had already reached the palace, and the submarine was just entering the river, then the captain had assumed an ambush and had a plan.

“What are you going to do to the Nautilus? I asked. “Fire cannons?”

“Oh no! Why destroy such a marvel of engineering! The Nautilus will be a great addition to the Navy of Great Britain.”

Suddenly, there was a noise from below – a few voices speaking loudly at once, and then a gun shot rang out. I leaned over the balustrade. The First Mate and the two sailors were frozen on the marble steps on the entrance of the palace, and around them were a dozen English soldiers with their guns draw. I saw the crew members slowly raise their hands up. At a sign from the sergeant, three soldiers approached them, who deftly searched and disarmed them. Another sign from the sergeant, and the crew members were taken away.

“Well, here are some hostages,” said Colonel Spencer contentedly. “You friend, Monsieur Professor, has neither imagination nor ingenuity.”

I could no longer look at him. I silently watched the soldiers who had taken the captives away and felt cold fear creeping into my heart. The execution of the actions of Spencer’s men vividly reminded me of my own abduction – both then and now everything was played out perfectly.

“And now, Monsieur Aronnax, allow me to leave – business calls,” the colonel said with mocking courtesy. After giving me a deep bow, he left through the archway into the inner chambers of the palace and disappeared into the crowd.

Numb, I remained standing by the balustrade.

I admit, for a few minutes I could not rally a single coherent thought. It seemed that everything was over. The Nautilus would be captured by the British, the crew executed, and if Ishwari were to see her father then it would only be in death.

I pulled myself together. I told myself that I still must fight, even if there was no hope. In the end, that’s why I came to Siolim – to ruin the plans of Colonel Spencer and jam the clockwork of his campaign. He obviously does not consider me a serious opponent – so much the better. I have a chance to save, if not the captain, then at least his daughter.

I looked around. The crowd of guests had thinned as the celebration was coming to a close. How much time did I have – half an hour, an hour? I went down to the first floor, went to the rooms reserved for servants, and asked for Conseil.

“What can I do for Monsieur?” he asked readily, coming to meet me.

I took him aside – to a place where we could not be overheard.

“Try to find the chambers of Princess Ishwari. They are probably on the south wing of the second floor. The princess is a beautiful girl of about fifteen or sixteen years old, in a dark green sari with gold embroidery and a matching robe. Her companion, Miss Jones, is a lady around forty, in a conservative gray dress, who is always with her. Most likely, they will be guarded, so be careful. If they ask you what you are doing there, say that you are looking for Mr. Lacroix at my request. Meet me in the hall of the main entrance. Do you understand everything?”

“Let Monsieur not be anxious,” Conseil answered, lowering his voice.

I felt a little more at ease. It was not without reason that I counted on the quick mind and iron composure of my servant which had helped me more than once in the past. Now I must decide how to proceed.

My first thought was to ask Mr. Lacroix for help, but I decided that it was too obvious, which means it was too dangerous. If I were Colonel Spencer I would first checkout the person who arranged hospitality and an invitation to the wedding reception. Also, here in India, the British behaved like masters – even in their formal subordination to Goa, the Portuguese did not stop them organizing a trap for the Nautilus and its captain! It was unlikely that Lacroix would be able to protect us, rather, he may become an innocent victim of a war completely unknown to him.

So, I had to take Ishwari away from India, to France, and in secret. I no more trusted the government of Napoleon III than the British – they could easily use the princess of Bundelkhand in their diplomatic games. Take her to Cassis, with d’Orbigny, to hide from the whole world – and let her choose her own path in life without regard to the bloody secrets of her past.

Ah! What a pipe dream!

We could not get out of India by land – we were too noticeable figures, too conspicuous. There was the sea. We needed to get on a French ship – on a French ship, whose crew strongly disliked the British, and would not hesitate to smuggle us and who knew me well – so basically, the ‘Naiad’. I remembered that the captain of the Naiad was going to go for a couple of days to the port on Panaji, located two leagues south of Siolim. If his ship is still there and we manage to get to it unnoticed, ‘Naiad’ would welcome us aboard.

Immersed in my thoughts, I walked through the main hall, pretending to look at the decorations of the palace. As well as me, there were several people in the hall wearing English military uniforms – either real soldiers or Spencer’s disguised men. They did not look at me. I concluded that the colonel was awaiting an attack on the palace. I felt uneasy. The darkness of the night seemed dangerous to me; the heavy, humid air was saturated with electricity.

About a quarter of an hour later Conseil came down to meet me. Before he could speak, I grabbed him by the elbow and led him to the path in front of the palace. Deliberately slowly, we walked along the brightly lit façade.

“Well?” I asked impatiently.

Conseil took a deep breath.

“Monsieur will not be upset if he finds out that I did not find Princess Ishwari?”

My heart sank.

“I was not even allowed to enter the south wing. There are four English soldiers – two at the edges of the corridor, two at the door leading to the chambers. I was immediately told to get out.”

“At which doors stood soldiers?”

“From the stairs at the third door.”

“Thank-you, Conseil. This is exactly what I wanted to find out.”

I mentally drew a plan of the palace, which I had formed when searching for Princess Ishwari, and then Lacroix. South wing, second floor, third door from the stairs. From the inside there is no entry, but maybe I can enter from the outside?

We managed to get to the curve of the path that bends around the palace when a cannon shot boomed from Chapora Fort. Then another, and another.

Frozen in place, Conseil and I stared at each other.

“Cannon shots?” he reasoned.

Had a fight already begun on the river?

“It seems that Spencer nevertheless decided to shoot the Nautilus,” I muttered, listening to the silence of the night. And only when I saw Conseil’s surprised face, I remembered – I realized! – that he did not know anything about what had happened.

I told him quickly about the meeting with Colonel Spencer, the signal fire at Chapora Fort, the three crew members of the Nautilus captured by the British soldiers, and the colonel’s promise to make Captain Nemo’s submarine part of the British Navy. By the end of my story, Conseil was noticeably gloomy.

“Ah, how bad,” he said. “Monsieur d’Orbigny was right – it is difficult to compete with this colonel.”

“We will still compete,” I replied to him with a certainty that I had not yet experienced.

“Whatever pleases Monsieur,” sighed Conseil. And then added after a pause:

“Now I understand that happened to those soldiers.”

“What are you talking about?”

As it turned out, shortly before I called for Conseil, three English soldiers were brought to the palace, stripped to their underwear. All three were unconscious – although without a scratch, only one had a pink mark to his forehead. Among the servants, this incident caused a variety of rumors – they speculated about poison, witchcraft, and other unknown things (“Monsieur knows that I understand English poorly and nothing of Hindustani,” apologized Conseil).

“Electric bullets!” I exclaimed.

“I agree with Monsieur.”

“The soldiers are lucky that they survived, usually these bullets kill outright.”

“Or Captain Nemo specifically decided to reduce their charge in order not to accidentally kill civilians at the weddingm,” suggested Conseil, and his thought seemed very plausible to me.

We stood at the southern corner of the palace, half-hidden by the shadow of the spreading palm trees. I listened, but there was no sound from the river and it was quiet around, there was only the gentle whisper of the wind as it stirred the branches of the trees. Perhaps I had misunderstood the meaning of the triple cannon shot? What if it did not mean the beginning of the battle, but served as a signal to the soldiers who were in the palace?

I became even more convinced of this hypothesis when a horn sounded from the front doors and a military detachment of thirty people came down the marble steps. Turning on the lawn in front of the palace, they lined up in rows and headed towards Chapora.

Watching them, I again took Conseil by the arm and pulled him into the shadows along the south wing. It was time to act.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to 'Kerisa'. I am merely the translator. Please note, while all effort has been taken to stay true to the original text some minor adjustments have been made for the ease of English readers.

Chapter 9:

The chambers of the southern wing of the Palace de Carvalho did not lead to a shared terrace, but to small elegant balconies. Some of the windows remained dark, but in the room where, according to my calculations, Princess Ishwari was held, a light was on. However, I could not make out if it was occupied as the window was closed with thick curtains

Fortunately, the balconies were not too high for two men who have been on numerous expeditions to the wildest corners of the planet. I took my shoes off, Conseil gave me a leg up onto his shoulders, and I grabbed the forged iron bars of the balcony. I then pulled myself up and swung over the ledge and pressed myself flush up against the wall near the window.

There was a small gap between the closed curtains and I carefully looked inside. I felt immense relief; Ishwari was there! Miss Jones sat in a high-backed chair not far from the entrance to the room knitting while Ishwari paced the room running her fingers through her long black hair. It seemed to me that tears streamed down her face.

At that very moment I heard people approaching, speaking in English, and barely managed to pull myself back into the darkness in time, as a patrol detachment appeared from around the bend below. I froze and listened intently. The soldiers marched along the path next to the south wing, they saw neither me or Conseil, and soon disappeared around the next bend.

No matter how many people had gone to Chapora, Colonel Spencer did not leave the palace unguarded.

Without leaving the wall, I took out my chronometer and timed. Then I felt through the inner pocket of my coat, took out a coin and knocked it on the edge of a mosaic tile several times, assessing the volume. If the sound was not too loud, but distinct, there is a chance that Ishwari would hear it, and Miss Jones, who was sitting in the back of the room, would not.

I returned my eyes to the gap between the curtains again, the princess was crying, covering her face with her hands. Miss Jones continued to calmly knit. I gently tapped the coin against the class. Miss Jones did not look up, but neither did Ishwari. I did not venture to knock louder, so waited for the princess to come closer.

Soon another patrol arrived, and again I managed to conceal myself in the darkness before they could notice me. I timed their appearance on the chronometer, hoping that they were regular in their patrols. The south-west wind was getting stronger, the trees surrounding the palace were roaring and swaying, and I was afraid that next time I might not hear the detachment approach.

As soon as the patrol disappeared, I once again tapped on the glass with the coin, and again it seemed like no one heard. However, no more than half a minute later Ishwari went to the window and eagerly looked at me with tear-stained eyes. Sighing with relief, I pointed at her, then myself, and then down to the ground. Ishwari nodded subtly and I retreated against the cool wall. Now, I only had to wait.

Minutes passed by and gradually began to instill in me a sense of hopelessness. Now everything depended on the courage and resourcefulness of a sixteen-year-old girl. Will she come with me? Can we lose Miss Jones? Should I be offering possibly false hope to the daughter of Captain Nemo?! Will it be possible to elude Colonel Spencer? I frantically considered other escape options, but they all seemed riskier and prone to folly.

At last the door to the balcony opened, and Princess Ishwari slipped out of the room.

“Are you ready to run?” – I whispered.

She nodded silently, her eyes glowing feverishly.

I looked down.

“Can you forgo your scarf? It’s too high to jump from here.”

Instead of answering, Ishwari tore the embroidered silk fabric from her hair and handed it to me. I quickly tied one end to the balcony bars and threw the other into the darkness. From behind the bushes Conseil jumped out and ran to the balcony, catching the end and pulling the scarf tight.

“Someone is down there,” Ishwari whispered in fright, turning to me.

“That is Conseil, my servant and reliable friend. Hurry, princess, a patrol will soon pass. Hold onto the fabric and slide down.”

I helped her over the balcony railing. The poor girl was trembling – whether from fear, or from anxious excitement, her palms were like ice. I was also shaky – every moment I expected to hear the tramp of soldiers’ boots. Finally, Ishwari slid down the makeshift rope into Conseil’s arms. I untied the knot, threw my legs over the railing, and jumped down.

The earth hurt my palms and burned my feet. I fumbled round in the grass looking for my shoes. Conseil was folding the scarf up.

“Where are my shoes, Conseil?”

“There,” he waved to somewhere in the thicket. “With Monsieur’s permission, I decided that his shoes, left under the balcony, could cause unnecessary questions from the English soldiers."

Sometimes I wanted to hug him, and sometimes I wanted to kill him on the spot.

“Then run!”

We rushed away from the palace and barely had time to hide behind a thick bush of acacia, as the regular detachment came around the bend. I held my breath. The soldiers calmly marched by without noticing anything, and for the first time I allowed myself to hope that we would succeed.

“How soon will Miss Jones notice your disappearance?” I asked Ishwari in English.

“Soon…in five minutes. I complained that I was ill and asked for water. The soldier at the door refused to leave for it, said he had an order. So, she went herself.”

“Then we should hurry. Conseil, where are my shoes, after all?” I added in French.

“Let Monsieur wait a minute,” and then Conseil disappeared somewhere in the darkness.

I brought before my mind’s eye a map of the neighbourhood of Siolim which Lacroix had shown me. In the quarter to the north of us, Chapora River travelled south-west to the lagoon, and from there to the Arabian Sea. But we could not flee to Chapora; there was the Nautilus, the people of Spencer and dozens, if not hundreds, of English soldiers, we would almost certainly be caught there. But in three hundred toises, the small Anjuna River flowed south of the palace, which also flowed into the lagoon. I we reached Anjuna, hired a boat – or, I was ready, if necessary, to take one without the owner’s consent! – go down the river to the lagoon, and then somehow slip through the strait past Fort Chapora and row to Panaji. If good luck does not leave us, we will find ourselves aboard ‘Naiad’ before dawn.

From the darkness Conseil emerged with my shoes in his hand. I quickly put them on and briefly outlined my plan of action, first in French, then in English.

Ishwari jumped to her feet.

“Are we not going to the Nautilus?” She asked in a trembling voice.

“The Nautilus is trapped in the river; it will have to retreat to the ocean. If we go to Chapora now, we will be captured.”

She looked at me, breathing heavily, and seemed about to breakdown in tears again.

“Princess, please!” I said imploringly. “I’m on your side, I’m on your father’s side. But we can’t go to the Nautilus now. You will not help your father if you are captured again. Your father is a brave fighter, but while you are in the hands of the English, they have him by the throat! Give him the opportunity to fight without having to worry about you!”

“May Monsieur forgive me but isn’t it time for us to run?” said Conseil.

“We need to hurry,” I added in English.

“Ok,” whispered the princess.

But then from the palace came the piercing cry of Miss Jones, and we understood that Ishwari’s escape had been discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter till Captain Nemo appears!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to original author 'Kerisa'. This is an translation of Kerisa's original fic 'Колесница Джаганнатха'. I hope I have done the story justice in my translation.

Chapter 10:

I put a finger to my lips, silencing Ishwari and Conseil, and then carefully peered out from behind the branches. Against the background of the illuminated window, I saw the black silhouettes of Miss Jones and one of the soldiers. Miss Jones stood unnaturally ridged, clinging to the railing, and the soldier leaned over the balcony looking for something below.

Through the rustle of leaves, I could hear two voices – shrill feminine and low masculine, but I could not make out what they were talking about. Finally, Miss Jones and the soldier went back to the room, and I commanded:

“Run!”

We ran deep into the forest, away from the palace, choosing the narrowest and darkest of the pathways. I felt eyes on my back, but when I looked back there was no one on the balcony. Soon, the path turned, and the thick foliage finally hid us from the Palace de Carvalho. The forest was already completely dark, the lights of the palace could no longer be seen, and if not for the moon, pouring its milky light from the west, from the coast, we would not be able to see the path nor each other.

Soon the path came to an end, the forest turned into wild thickets of acacia and banyan, and we slowed to be cautious. Unfortunately, Princess Ishwari’s soft silk shoes were not suitable for traveling on rocks, roots and mounds. Pretty quickly, Conseil was fortunate enough to stumble onto another p ath, and we walked along it in single file – first my servant, then Ishwari, and then I held the rear. The path twisted around thickets of tall grass, in which cicadas chanted, but it led us in the right direction – to the south-west, to Anjuna. I still could not hear anyone following us. I hoped that the soldier and Miss Jones did not see us from the balcony, and it took time and a lot of people to comb through the whole forest and its surroundings.

Before us, tall trees leapt up, and the smell of the river. There were only about a hundred toises (French unit of measurement) left before Anjuna when Conseil collapsed suddenly as if knocked down.

At first, I feared he was dead. His eyes were closed, his face pale in the moonlight. I fell to my knees, pulled his shirt aside and put my ear to his chest – and at that moment some incredibly fast, incredibly small object flew past me without a sound and sank into the tall grass.

Conseil’s heart beat. Quiet, but smooth and strong.

Here, we were caught between two fires.

I rummaged my hand in the grass, where the moonlight was reflected for an instant, and I found a warm glass cone about an inch in length.

Ishwari crouched beside me.

“Is he ok?” She asked in a whisper.

“He was shot. An electric bullet – this,” and I handed her the small glass cone.

She took the bullet, and then stared at me with anxious glittering eyes.

I looked up. The night was dark, and it brought with it a sense of danger. Tall trees by the river rustled in the wind, ominous. I felt eyes on me again – a cold gaze, staring through me – like the sensation of a poisonous spider crawling over my skin.

“Somewhere, there is a shooter from the Nautilus, and maybe not just one,” I said. “They will not shoot at you, but they may accidentally miss. You better stay away from me. I will try and drag Conseil to those trees, under the protection of the branches. And we will likely try and negotiate.”

I did not have time to do anything, not even grab Conseil by the shoulders. Ishwari proudly straightened and loudly, imperatively screamed a few words in a language that I had previously heard only from Nemo and his people.

I was stunned.

“What are you doing, princess?! In three minutes, there will be British soldiers!”

She stared at me in horror and pressed her hands to her mouth.

But good luck had left us. In the distance, there was a male voice, sharp as a whistle, clearly giving commands.

I looked at Conseil, at Ishwari, at the wooded shore of Anjuna. I knew that if something happened to Conseil, I would never forgive myself. But there was no way out – I could not carry him by myself and it would not change his fate in any way if I stayed near him. Firstly, without Princess Ishwari near him, struck down by an electric bullet, he did not look guilty, rather looked a victim, which meant that the British, at least I hoped, would not harm him.

I turned to the girl.

“Run!”

We rushed headlong down the path to the band of trees that marked the shore, to the shaky wooden footbridges thrown across the river, to the row of fishing boats lying on the shore. There was no time to be choosy – I pushed the first boat into the water which looked relatively strong. The princess curled up on the bow of the boat, clamping her mouth shut with her palms, I sat down at the oars. Male voices, English voices, sounded closer, then I heard a shout – it seems they had found Conseil. With a few powerful strikes from the oars I led the boat into the middle of the river. I prayed for only one thing, that the soldiers would not be on the shore before the bend in the Anjuna river. Again, sounded shouts, a gunshot thundered, and everything went quiet.

Anjuna’s width did not exceed a dozen toises; I think I can pass this river. The trees growing on its banks closed their branches over our heads, forming a high arch. Moonlight barely penetrated their weave.

I rowed with powerful measured movements, trying to stick to the middle of the stream. According to my calculations, we should be through the Anjuna in ten to fifteen minutes. The oarlocks squeaked sharply, the water splashed softly, parted by the boat, trees rustled overhead – but no matter how hard I listened, I heard nothing of a pursuit or anyone nearby. We were alone between the dark water and the dark branches, and I guessed where the riverbed was rather than saw it. Perhaps our pursuers were off our track or engaged in a battle with the shooter from Nemo’s team. In any case, fate gave us another chance to slip away.

The river made a smooth turn to the south, the banks moved further away, the canopy above us opened – and I again saw in the sky the bright half-moon, and our surroundings were flooded in milky-white light. I turned to Ishwari. The princess no longer trembled, curled up like a frightened animal, she sat on the bow of the boat motionless and straight, like a statue, and the look on her face became soft and dreamy.

Probably the poor girl thought she would soon be reunited with her father. That very soon – she would see the electric glow of the Nautilus’s searchlight in the lagoon approaching in front of us. I could not bring myself to tell her it was not so. I knew that Captain Nemo would not leave his people in the hands of the British, that he would try to rescue them – or exchange his life for theirs. But why would Spender have the life of Prince Dakkar when his intention was to have the Nautilus? I had no doubt that the colonel would violate any agreement made and break any oath in order to seize the submarine, which was ahead of its time by a good hundred years.

I concede, in this moment despair once again fell on me. In the heat of escape and the chase I was distracted from the terrible situation in which Captain Nemo and his people found themselves, but now nothing prevented the flow of gloomy thought. Ishwari followed me because she thought I would take her to her farther. What will happen when she finds out the truth? Even if I save her, even if I hide her from Spencer and the British authorities, I can’t help Captain Nemo. All I could hope for was that it would be easier for him to meet death, knowing that his daughter was safe. What a weak and bitter consolation!

The river turned again, this time to the west, and I realised that the mouth was close. The banks got closer, the current intensified, and I put down the oars, giving myself a few minutes of respite. The boat slid easily through the shimmering ripples of the small waves, and soon the larger waves from the lagoon mixed with the gentle lull of the river.

“Princess, have you ever sailed the sea?” I turned to Ishwari.

The girl shook her head.

“There may be high waves in the lagoon, and there will most certainly be from the sea. The boat will rock strongly. Sit back and hold on tight!”

She obediently moved to the back bench and clutched her arms to side of the boat. I took up the oars again. Half a minute later, the river narrowed sharply and turned to the north-west, white crests appeared on the waves, and our little boat was carried onto a vast expanse of water – a little less than a mile wide.

A strong south-west wind blew over the lagoon, the boat immediately picked up and pushed forth on a short and angry wave. It was a mile or a bit more from the mouth of the river to the open ocean, but we could not go straight, the waves pushed us obliquely to the port side and tried to overturn the little boat. I turned the boat to the waves, heading for the southern shore of the lagoon, and rowed. The work was rapidly becoming harder.

Ishwari was sitting at the stern, clutching her arms in fright. The turbulent waters of the mouth of Chapora did not at all resemble the quiet streams of Anjuna – and yet we had not even gone out into the ocean! The boat lifted its nose, scrambling on the peak of a wave, then plunged down, and we splashed heavily into the water. In the west, we saw the opening to the ocean, the moonlight shining our path.

For about half an hour, I rowed, not stopping and almost did not feel any weakness. A hundred toises away, the southern shore of the lagoon stretched away from us – an uneven black stripe against the background of the misty gray lunar sky.  The bulk of Chapora Fort gradually heaved even higher, approaching from the south-west, but I hoped that no one would notice our tiny boat from there. The waves became weaker, cut off by the near shore – and we approached the bend in the lagoon. When the moonlight disappeared behind the fort, I ventured to turn west, straight for the exit to the ocean.

The monotonous rhythm of work at the oars cleared my head from extraneous thoughts. I seemed to be clear headed, feeling no more despair or fear. Ishwari sat motionless, holding tight to the sides of the boat, closing her eyes and seemingly moving her lips, her scarf had long been drenched and lay heavily on her shoulders.

For ten minutes I rowed through the strait, struggling to paddle and risking stopping from fatigue too soon. The stone boulder of Chapora Fort, which was in the south now, and the waves continued to push us to the right. The hill upon which the fort stood, was plunged in darkness, only on its summit the lights from the windows glowed. At any moment we could be found, stopped and captured – to the complete victory of Colonel Spencer.

I was aware of this danger, but I completely forgot about another, much more formidable! Rowing through the lagoon was exhaustingly strenuous, and I realised the madness of my plan only when we went out to the open sea. When we leave the strait, we will be picked up by the huge ocean waves. Our boat is already struggling on the waves of the lagoon, and it took great effort for me to keep it on course, before it was rolled again another way from the next wave. I felt the little boat reach for the sky before falling back to the abyss of the ocean, trapped between two walls of darkness.

What was I thinking when I decided to paddle to Panaji? Did I count on the Arabian Sea being calm, like the lake in the forest? The waves that faced us, an experienced captain of a well-equipped modern ship would not even call a storm, but Ishwari and I were in not more than a wooden shell, could not even be called a lifeboat!

For about an hour I was still trying to steer the boat along the coast to the south, towards Panaji, but then I realised the futility of my attempts. Waves coming from the south-west pushed us to the north, and the powerful mass of water traveling from the mouth of Chapora carried us away from the coast. When the boat was raised on the crest on a wave, I looked around to the right, to the left bank, and saw how it became further and further away. Another hour, and I realised we were lost.

How to describe the chilling horror of realising the inevitable, imminent death? But stronger than this, was the feeling of guilt before Ishwari. Without my intervention she would have lived – even if as a prisoner, ever under the hand of the enemies of her homeland, but she would have lived – and I took her away with an impossible dream and destroyed it almost as certainly as with the shot from a rifle. Out of shame, in front of her, I did not give up, and held the boat’s nose towards the wave, already without hope, and only postponing our death for a minute…and then another.

The night stretched on and on endlessly, like a longing soul trapped in hell. The moon gradually sank to the horizon and disappeared behind distant clouds, and everything around us was then shrouded in darkness. I was exhausted, muscles not accustomed to row for hours and hours, began to seize, and not respond. We were both drenched. Ishwari was silent – I did not hear a word of complaint or reproach from her. Did she still have faith in me, or did she long understand that we were doomed, and with that calm courage characteristic of Indians, prepared for death?

At some point, we were raised to the crest of a particularly high wave, and Ishwari suddenly shouted in a brittle voice:

“Light! There, in the sea, light!”

I turned, barely able to move.

She was right, about a mile away from us, the black sea water was illuminated with a glow that I would confuse with no other – the bright phosphoric glow of the Nautilus searchlight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to 'Kerisa'. I am merely the translator. Please note, while all effort has been taken to stay true to the original text some minor adjustments have been made for the ease of English readers.

Chapter 11:

I looked at the electric light that lit up the depths of the sea, and it seemed to me the most beautiful, most wonderful light I have ever seen in my life. Coming back to myself, I grabbed the oars. It wasn’t over yet – we were still sitting in a fragile boat in the middle of the stormy sea, and the submarine was too far away to see us.

“It’s the Nautilus!” I exclaimed, turning to Ishwari. “If we get to it – we’re saved! Hold on tight, I will try to bring the boat closer.”

Alas, it was easier said than done. I rowed towards the source of the light, gritting my teeth and trying not to pay attention to the pain in my overworked muscles, but how could I keep up with the powerful engine of the Nautilus not to mention the might of the ocean? A few minutes later, I realised that we were not only not getting any closer to the submarine, but we were quickly moving away from it. The searchlight slid eastward, toward the coast, and soon turned towards the moon in the horizon.

It seemed Ishwari burst into tears, and, I confess, I too was about ready to join her.

But then the glow began to approach us again, and I guessed that Nemo was looking for us. Every passing minute the submarine came closer and closer – but still missed our boat by a good half mile. I did not take my eyes off the light marking the position of the Nautilus; my heart was ready to jump out of my chest.

“Princess, when we rise on the crest of the next wave, shout out as loud as you can!”

“Ok,” she sobbed.

And when the wave lifted us to the sky, Ishwari screamed – first brittle and then a piercing girlish cry – repeating the same word over and over in a foreign language. I thanked God for giving the captain’s daughter such healthy lungs and a sonorous voice! If the submarine was on the surface of the water and someone was on its deck, we must have been heard.

And heard we were. A greenish light seemed to flash over and through the crests of the waves. Now the searchlight was directed in our direction. I could now clearly see Ishwari’s face – exhausted, tear-stained, and happy, and I felt I was ready to burst into tears. A minute later, the beam deflected – the submarine was now approaching us broadside. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the deck of the Nautilus rapidly approaching, waves splashing over it, and about a dozen people on it, among which stood the tall figure of the captain. Then our boat was strongly shaken, the bow was thrown upwards, screeching along the steel side of the Nautilus, and immediately several strong hands pulled me to the deck.

Staggering, I was pulled to my feet, only to have another wave hit us and I was almost washed back into the ocean. The hands stayed strong and pulled me up and I suddenly saw the captain – his eyes closed hugging Ishwari who was laughing and crying in that unfamiliar language. I looked at them, forgetting everything, until someone’s heavy hand shook my shoulder and brought me back to reality.

It was the First Mate.

“Go down!” He commanded me in broken English. “We dive!”

I nodded and moved toward the hatch. It was fastened down, but a crew member quickly came over. When the next wave that had crashed across the deck subsided, he quickly opened the hatch and with an expressive gesture invited me to descend quickly. I grabbed the railing as I had already a thousand times before – and only by a miracle I didn’t fall and break my neck; my stiff fingers almost did not bend or feel anything.

The hatch slammed closed with a spray of sea water. From the strong pitching of the submarine on the rough water everything was shaking. I felt stunned. Where do I go? In what capacity am I onboard the Nautilus? I stopped at the bottom of the stairs in indecision, but then the hatch opened again and the First Mate himself jumped down. He opened the door to that very dungeon room, where Conseil, Ned Land, and myself were locked during our very first stay on the Nautilus, and I, without waiting for an order, went inside, The door crashed shut from a particularly violent roll from the Nautilus.

Conseil rushed to me.

“Professor! You are alive!” He exclaimed with unrestrained excitement.

I stared at my servant in amazement – and then felt a heavy weight lift from my shoulders. No matter how hard I tried to persuade myself on the shores of Anjuna, that Spencer’s people would not harm him, to see him before me alive and healthy was a great relief.

“Conseil! God, Conseil! How did you get here?”

“They took me with them. Well…I think so, I woke up already on the Nautilus. Monsieur has confused all their plans,” he added, lowering his voice and for some reason looking away.

I gently touched the crimson bruise on his cheek where the electric bullet had hit.

“How do you feel?”

“With Monsieur’s permission, fine! Well, that is, at first not very good, but they gave me some kind of drink, after which everything vanished.”

Trailing Conseil’s words, we heard a well-known hiss, the flow of water into the ballast tanks: the Nautilus was beginning to dive. The Nautilus pitched, then leveled out.

I walked over to the table and sat down, or rather, collapsed on the bench. Fatigue filled me like lead. I hardly even felt the cold of my saturated clothing. Thoughts turned in my head slowly, as if I had not slept for a good two days.

Conseil hesitated close to me, as if he wanted to say something to me but didn’t know how.

“Monsieur will forgive me?” finally he said. “I had to tell him everything.”

“The Captain?”

Conseil nodded silently.

“It’s okay,” I replied. “I have no secrets from Captain Nemo.”

“And about Monsieur d’Orbigny too.”

I looked at my servant more closely. Conseil was not easy to intimidate, but I knew too well how the commander of the Nautilus could be in anger.

“Well, there’s not much we can do. I hope Francois will forgive us.”

“When I said that Monsieur was going to Panaji…” Conseil shivered, “he said that if you kill Mademoiselle Ishwari, he would find you even in hell.”

I smiled sadly.

“If I had killed Mademoiselle Ishwari, then that is where I would have been.”

In fact, I did not feel as calm as I looked. I wanted to see Captain Nemo, but I also feared our reunion. How would he react to me after all that has happened? After our escape? After my betrayal? I was not afraid that he would harm us or kill us, but his possible anger and contempt scared me to dizziness.

The door clanged open, and I flinched. But it turned out to just be a steward who brought a stack of fine linen clothes and a glass of water. Following the steward, the First Mate entered the room.

I met his eyes for the first time – and was surprised to find that there was no disdain or hostility in his eyes. The First Mate looked at me approvingly and, perhaps, with amused amazement, as if I had just walked a tightrope over the market or stood on his head on the back of a galloping horse.

“Professor Aronnax, I have order you to have dinner prepared,” he said in English. “While you stay here, then the captain will decide your fate.”

His pronunciation and choice of words was monstrous.

He took a few steps toward the door, then turned around and looked at me.

“My name is Stephen.”

“Thank you, Stephen,” I replied with sincere gratitude.

The door slammed shut again.

“To think!” muttered Conseil. “We did not hear anything from them in ten months, except for “dinner is served”, “follow me”, “go down, we dive”, and here to Monsieur! Maybe the captain decided to enlist us in the crew?”

“That is unlikely.”

I carefully sipped from the glass. It was pure fresh water, and I downed it. It was only now I realised how thirsty I was and how my skin burned with sea salt.

Meanwhile, Conseil had already unfolded the clothes brought by the steward.

“Monsieur must change clothes. There is not a dry thread on him! He’s been cold for so long.”

Of course, he was right, but I no longer had the strength to move. I was shackled with numbness as if I was the victim of a blade laced in poison. If it were not for Conseil, I would have remained sitting in wet icy clothes and would have inevitably fallen ill, but his insistence forced me to get up and change.

What happened next, I do not remember. I sat with my eyes open but seemed to be asleep. Sometimes visions obscured reality, and I again saw before me the stormy waters of the lagoon with the moon lighting the path to either salvation or death, the triumphant grin of Colonel Spencer, and Ishwari’s dreamy face lit by the moonlight.

I woke up because Conseil was quietly but firmly shaking my shoulder.

“Monsieur,” he said in a whisper. “Monsieur!”

I looked up. Captain Nemo stood in the middle of the room and looked at me with an expression that I had never seen before and I didn’t understand what it meant. Golden sparks danced in his eyes.

I forced myself to my feet and met his eyes.

“Captain.”

“Professor Aronnax, you never cease to amaze me.”

And then he stepped forward and hugged me.

I think I got dizzy, because the next moment I found that he was holding my shoulders tightly and looking anxiously at my face.

“Professor, yes, you can barely stand!”

“It’s nothing,” I whispered. “Just tired.”

“Your cabin is ready, follow me. Conseil, help him.”

My faithful fellow jumped up to me and gave me his shoulder to lean on. To tell the truth, my first steps were shaky and difficult. But when we went out into the corridor, I began to feel more confident and gently pulled away from Conseil. I did not want to look weak in front of Captain Nemo.

I was not at all surprised when we arrived at the cabin in which Conseil and Ned Land had previously stayed. My former cabin adjacent to the captain’s was obviously occupied by Princess Ishwari.

“Sit down,” said Nemo, stopping at the door.

Realising that he was going to leave, I decided to ask him a question that worried me from the very moment I saw the light from the searchlight of the Nautilus at sea:

“Captain, how did you manage to escape from the mouth of the Chapora?”

“I shall explain tomorrow. Rest now.”

The door to our cabin closed. I stretched out on the bed Ned Land had previously occupied and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, utterly exhausted, every muscle seemed to hurt, but at that moment I was completely and absolutely contented. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is an amateur translation of the original Russian fanfic authored by Kerisa (wtf_jules_verne). It has been translated with Kerisa's permission. Some minimal wording has been changed for the benefit of ease of reading for English readers however, I hope that I have done this marvelous fic justice in my translation.

Chapter 12:

I knew that I would feel terrible the next day, but the reality exceeded my darkest expectations. Waking up from two people speaking in hushed voices, one of which belonged to Conseil, I found that I could not get up, sharp pains immobilised me with every attempt to move. Hours at the oars would not go unpunished, so here I was not exactly surprised, but my helplessness caused me both embarrassment and annoyance.

As it turned out, they had brought us breakfast. I smelled the delicious scent of fried fish and immediately felt extreme hunger.

“How did Monsieur rest?” greeted Conseil, who obviously had been up for a while.

“Thank-you, Conseil, I’ve been better.”

“If Monsieur deigns to eat, then he will recover his strength.”

He put on the table a breakfast tray and removed the covers off the plates.

But then it turned out that not only could I not stand on my own, but I could not even bring the fork to my mouth! Something similar had happened to me once before, when we did not stop for a second, spending more than a day on canoes on the Congo, trying to outrun the warriors from the Bangala tribe who were pursuing us.

“It’s nothing, Monsieur,” said Conseil softly, seating me on the bed with pillows at my back. “Remember how in Africa we were escaping from those black savages wearing crocodile teeth necklaces? The next day Monsieur could not even touch his nose, not to mention anything else!”

I smiled weakly.

I would not allow anyone else to feed me like a child, but Conseil and I had been in a lot of different scrapes and had seen each other in rather poor states. Loyalty and reliability were combined with delicacy and tact, and I fully trusted him. Having eaten everything on the plate, I leaned back against the pillows, and Conseil left to inquire about running a hot bath.

Our cabin was not locked – we still enjoyed full freedom of movement on the Nautilus.

The bathroom was located next to the galley, literally a dozen steps from our cabin. I’ve always liked its decoration paired with practicality and convenience in mind. Hot and cold water taps allowed water of any temperature to be run – a luxury not available to the vest majority of the French. The room having steel walls and the floor covered with thick mats, was always warm due to its proximity to the engine room.

Immersing myself in the clean, hot water I felt the tension in my muscles abate after a few minutes. Then after a quarter of an hour, I was able to get out of the bath and even get dressed.

Returning to the cabin, I began to do the only thing that helps in this state – and forced my muscles to work despite the weakness and sharp pain. I did a few exercises and, after a few hours, regained some fluidity of movement. Having finished doing this, I went to look for Captain Nemo. No matter how apprehensive I was about our meeting, I had to know our fate.

I found the captain in the library. He walked slowly along the shelves, looking at the spines of the books, sometimes removing one or the other; a small stack was already lying on the central table.

I looked at the captain with a racing heart, not knowing whether to attract attention to myself or to continue watching in silence. There was something extraordinarily enticing in him not seeing me – it seemed to me that, being alone, he removed his usual mask and was himself. I stood for a minute or two, not moving or saying a word, but then he finally noticed me and turned around.

“Ah, Professor Aronnax,” Nemo said kindly. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better already.”

He added two more volumes to the stack on the table and nodded to one of the sofas.

“Please, sit down.”

I sat down. Apparently, on my face flashed a grimace of pain, because his gaze became more attentive, even anxious.

“Did it just come into your head to go to sea on that shell of a boat?” He said reproachfully.

I lowered my eyes, ready for reprimands.

“I know that I made a mistake. I did not expect such excitement…and that the current would be so strong. My plan was that before morning, we would get to Panaji and board a French ship. Sorry, Captain, I thought that the Nautilus was trapped in Chapora, otherwise I would have waited for you in the lagoon.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done. You put Ishwari in danger! And if I did not find you? As soon as you dropped the oars, the first wave would have overturned the boat, and you would have dropped them very soon, judging by your state yesterday! You usually seem like an intelligent man, Professor Aronnax, but sometimes…”

I had nothing to say, and I silently looked at my hands which bore swollen blisters. Probably, in a different situation and with another person, such accusations would make me feel awkward and annoyed, but now I felt like a careless scholar who is chastised by the dean of faculty.

Finally, the captain fell silent, and I looked up at him again. He looked at me with a strange expression that I could not read – either affectionate or sad.

“Why are you silent?” He asked gently.

I shook my head.

“You are right, I really acted recklessly. I admit, I was desperate. I thought the British had captured the Nautilus, or were about to capture it, and I didn’t see another option."

I immediately regretted my words.

“The British would never capture the Nautilus!” Nemo roared, and I almost jumped. He looked at me furiously for a few moments, but then with obvious effort he pulled himself together and took a few steps around the room. “What, you seriously thought that I would enter Chapora without even looking at a map and not assuming that it was a trap? Lord knows what you think of me, Monsieur Aronnax!”

“I don’t…”

The captain made a sharp gesture, ordering me to shut up.

“You asked yesterday how the Nautilus managed to escape from the mouth of Chapora. Well, the Nautilus had no need to break out of the mouth of Chapora, because it did not enter Chapora."

I looked at him in amazement.

“But the fire from the fort…the people of Spencer must have seen the Nautilus, otherwise they would not have given a signal!”

“Colonel Spencer saw what he wanted to see. It is obvious that he, like you, considered me a fool.”

Nemo paused for a moment, then spoke much more calmly.

“The rivers of India hold muddy water. In such water, only the searchlight of the Nautilus can be seen. Seeing a spot of light coming upstream, the British decided that they saw the Nautilus. They did not consider that it may be something else!”

I began to guess where he was going and looked at him with admiration.

“You created a fake Nautilus!”

“Exactly. Light wooden frame, loaded with metal plates to zero buoyancy, six electric lights along the central axis, creating the impression of a searchlight, and a small engine with compressed air. The fake was guided by my men in diving suits. When the fake Nautilus passed through the narrowing of the Chapora channel, Spencer blocked the river with mines and decided that he had won.”

I imagined Colonel Spencer’s face when he realised that, instead of the Nautilus, he had captured several boards and lanterns in the river and couldn’t contain my laughter.

“Sorry, captain, but this is amazing!”

Nemo looked at me eagerly, and then a slight smile touched his lips.

“What happened next?” I asked. I admit I was burning with curiosity to learn the background of this story.

“Next,” Nemo’s expression dropped in thought. “Unfortunately, my people failed to get to the palace. They were arrested before they could enter.”

I nodded.

“I saw it happen.”

Nemo threw me a sharp look.

“Yes, Professor, you appeared suddenly, like a new comet on the night skies! If I knew that you were among those invited, I would not have sent my people to the palace.”

“I would not betray your people, captain!” I responded with conviction.

“Well, yesterday I would not count on it. In addition, you could give them away inadvertently. With no offense to you, Monsieur Aronnax, but you have a very expressive face. I often guess your thoughts before you say them.”

The thought that the captain reads me like an open book made me uneasy.

“When Spencer received signal that the Nautilus was locked in the river, he decided that it was time to dictate his terms to me,” Nemo continued, and his look became hard. “He sent my First Mate to the fake with a message that the channel of Chapora was blocked by mines and that I could not get out into the ocean. And that if I surrendered and gave him the Nautilus, then he would consider pardoning my crew.”

“Nice wording,” I mumbled.

“Do I need to tell more? Stephan told the divers, who were on duty at the fake, that they had imprisoned Marco and Krzysztof. We freed them by morning. Spencer thought he had me by the throat and only left half a dozen soldiers guarding them.”

Nemo fell silent and looked at me. And I, as if in a dream, again saw the swinging branches of the trees, lit by the moonlight, and the path in the tall grass running toward Anjuna.

“I hope I didn’t confuse your plans too much, Captain, when I called Ishwari to come with me.”

“You have confused my plans very much, Professor Aronnax,” he stated, but his eyes warmed, and the golden sparks flashed in them again. “However, if it were not for you, I could not have rescued Ishwari, without sacrificing some of my men. My men were unable to get to the place, and they did not even know where my daughter was being held. We were going to attack the palace closer to midnight, but this was not required. Zbigniew, who was watching over the southern wing, saw you escape with Ishwari and decided to help you. He not only let you go but remained behind to cover your escape. But Egelt decided to intervene.”

I remembered the moonlight reflecting off the electric bullet that flashed past my face, Conseil falling, and took a deep breath.

“I suppose, with all that happened afterward, it would have been better had I let myself be shot.”

“I completely agree with you, Monsieur Aronnax!” Nemo answered sharply. “By doing this, you would have saved yourself and me from many worries. But for some reason, Ishwari decided to stay with you.”

“However, if this had happened, we would inevitably be interrogated by Colonel Spencer. And I, as you already said, have a very expressive face.”

“Professor, do you really think that I would leave you in the hands of the British?”

 _Of course, I guess when we are in your hands, it is much safer for you._ I quickly looked away so that he would not read anything in my eyes.

“I don’t know,” I replied out loud, without raising my eyes. “We didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I was not sure if you would treat me any differently than your enemies.”

Nemo did not say anything, and his silence struck me as terrifying. I immediately regretted having touched this slippery topic. It was probably better to pretend that there was no escape, that the article in the New York Times did not come out, and that I did not answer Spencer’s questions…that Conseil and I were still just the passengers of the Nautilus.

“You had no doubts that I would treat you as an enemy, and yet you still came,” the captain said at last. “Why? Ten months ago, you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. What made you intervene now?”

I glanced at the captain. Nemo stood three steps away from me, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes slightly narrowed. He looked at me more intently and closely than Colonel Spencer ever did. I felt hot and cold all at once; I felt like a moth pinned by an entomologist’s needle to a collector’s pad.

I was probably more afraid now than I had been on the thrashing waves of the ocean. Still, I felt compelled to tell him the truth.

“Captain, I betrayed you. It is because of me that they know who you are.”

And I told him about the Paris kidnapping, about the interrogation by Colonel Spencer and my abject honesty. 

“That’s why I came. I felt guilty. I could not be calm knowing I may have killed you. I had to try and stop Spencer, otherwise I would not be able to live with myself.”

“Is that right,” said Nemo.

He looked calm, but the golden sparks in his eyes had gone out.

“Your conscience must be a restless and domineering lady,” he said quietly, turning away from me.

I looked at him in alarm. I admit, I did not expect such a reaction from him. I was afraid of an angry outburst, or a violent expression of contempt, but the captain was rather…distressed.

Nemo looked at the bookshelves for a few minutes, as if forgetting about my presence, it seemed to me that he was thinking about something intensely. Then he turned back to me.

“Professor Aronnax, I forgive you and release you from any obligations. I do not blame you and you owe me nothing, neither now nor in the future.”

After saying these words, the captain went to the table, took the selected pile of books and left the library.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to 'Kerisa'. I am merely the translator. Please note, while all effort has been taken to stay true to the original text some minor adjustments have been made for the ease of English readers.

Chapter 13:

Captain Nemo left, and I remained sitting on the sofa on complete confusion. I could not figure out if our conversation ended good or badly. On one hand, the captain forgave me my betrayal, and before that spoke to me very kindly. But on the other hand, I felt that something subtle had broken between us, something I could not put my finger on. A cold, clammy anxiety crept into my heart – like the lingering aftertaste of poison after a delicious meal.

Finally, with effort, I got up and went back to the cabin.

Conseil was cleaning my shoes, humming something in Flemish.

“Monsieur met Captain Nemo?” He asked when he saw me.

“Yes, Conseil.”

“The captain said what he decided to do with us next?”

It was only then that I realised I had not asked Nemo the main question – the one I went looking for him to ask. Annoyed, I turned around and went out into the corridor again.

The captain was not in the library, nor the dining room nor the saloon. I listened at the door leading to his cabin, it was silent. After hesitating, I knocked, but no one answered. Then I decided to look in my former cabin – and, already approaching it, I heard the gentle voice of Ishwari and the low, velvet one of the captain.

Heart pounding, I knocked, and turned the doorhandle.

Ishwari, still in the same green sari, was sitting at the table, only the scarf on her shoulders was replaced by a fur stole. Nearby lay a stack of books, selected by the captain in the library, pens, an inkwell, and several pieces of paper.

Seeing me, she smiled happily.

“Good morning, princess,” I said.

“What do you want, Monsieur Aronnax?” Nemo asked coldly, turning around.

My heart sank.

“Excuse me, captain, I have only one question. What will be our fate?”

“The Nautilus is going to the Comoros Islands and will reach them in three days. One of the islands, Mayotte, is a protectorate of France. You will receive freedom.”

I knew I should have felt relief and gratitude, but I only felt searing disappointment. Fortunately, I did not show it. I bowed to Nemo and said as courteously as I could:

“Thank-you, captain, that is very generous of you.”

And I quietly closed the door behind me.

 

***

 

I returned to the cabin, relayed the words of the captain to Conseil, then lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. I did not understand what was happening to me. I felt as if a good friend had thrown me out of the house and slammed the door, only a hundred times worse. I told myself that everything had worked out well – Captain Nemo had been reunited with his daughter, I helped and did not die, the Nautilus escaped the trap set by Colonel Spencer without losing a single person, finally, I told the captain of my betrayal and he did not kill me – but my heart was filled with anguish and longing.

“Monsieur feels bad?” Anxiously asked Conseil.

What could I tell him? And what could I tell myself?

“No, Conseil, I’m fine.”

“Monsieur would like to stay on the Nautilus?”

I felt angry – not at Conseil, of course, but at myself and my “expressive face”. At that moment I did not want to be read by either friends or enemies.

“Maybe I would,” I replied. “But Captain Nemo did not give us a choice.”

My servant tactfully kept silent, and I again indulged in my gloomy thoughts.

I thought about how we would return to Paris, reminisced about the Museum of Natural History, meeting with friends in cafes, scientific expeditions – what used to fill my life with meaning and joy; did not bring any relief. My heart felt pierced by an icy shard. I realised that in vain I was looking for a painkiller in my past life – something to ease my pain.

I forced myself to be extremely honest with myself. I looked into my soul deeper than I had looked in many years – and realised what I should have long ago. I would not say it – there are some thoughts that should not be given voice. But now I knew that Captain Nemo was doing me a favour, driving me out of the Nautilus – and thereby giving me a chance to stay on the edge of the precipice. Jagannath’s chariot was approaching me, but I was still able to dodge its relentless progress! And if for this I must rip out my heart, then so be it.

I heard the cabin door click softy: Conseil had gone somewhere. My eyes burned and burned. Did I feel sorry for myself, or did I just hurt? I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t know if I had the strength!

I don’t remember how much time passed, I felt as if I was lying on the bottom of the ocean, with the dark bitter water rolling over me. But then a gentle knock came from the door, and I hurriedly sat up.

“Come in!”

It was Ishwari.

“Bonjour,” she said happily, almost without an accent.

“Bonjour, princess,” I replied.

“I will study French,” she continued in English. “And also, mathematics and physics. And fishes.”

“Okay.”

“Father has your book, “Mysteries of the Ocean Depths”, he showed me. When I learn to read French, I will read it.”

“I think your father could write a dozen such books, and all of them would be better than mine.”

“He likes yours.”

She suddenly looked at me searchingly, the smile dropping from her face.

“You will not return to the Nautilus?”

“No, princess, I won’t be back.”

“Why?”

I looked away. I did not want to lie to her and yet could not tell the truth.

“It’s hard to explain.”

Ishwari carefully looked at me with large dark eyes, so similar to the eyes of the captain, and I had a lump in my throat.

“If you ever need me, princess, I will come.”

“Just be careful,” she said. “If the British kill you, I will grieve.”

“It is unlikely that the British will kill me, but I will be careful, I promise.”

She slipped out the door, and I remained sitting on the bed, feeling both stunned and ashamed at the same time. I realised I had been too carried away with self-pity. Serving the people I care for was within my power.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, all credit goes to original author 'Kerisa'. This is a translation of Kerisa's original fic 'Колесница Джаганнатха'. I hope I have done the story justice in my translation.

Chapter 14:

I did not see Captain Nemo that day nor the next and I did not seek to meet with him. I remained quite down. I had made a decision and intended to stick to it, but I was not sure of the strength of my spirit.

In the morning and evening I went to the saloon and looked at the location of the Nautilus which had been neatly marked on the map by the First Mate. The submarine inevitably approached the Comoros. Most of the time, we traveled at a depth of fifty meters, only rising to the surface once a day in order to renew our air supply. I had the feeling that the captain was trying to rid himself of us quickly.

On April the 21st, after lunch, I went to the library to look for information about the island of Mayotte. As it turned out, this relatively large mountainous island was located approximately midway between the northern coast of Madagascar and the eastern coast of Africa. I learned that Mayotte is located in the eastern part of the Comorian Ridge in the north of the Mozambique Channel, and the name of the island was derived from the name of the Arab sultanate that previously existed on Comoros – Maore. Since 1843, the island was a protectorate of France.

Judging by the map, Mayotte was surrounded by a massive coral reef, which was only passable in three narrow places. I was just looking at the outlines of the northern gap, through which, most likely the Nautilus will approach the island when Captain Nemo entered the library.

I thought I was making all the right decisions, but one look at the captain made my heart rise in my throat. I focused on my “expressive face” and made sure it only showed attention and scientific interest. I re-read the paragraph devoted to the topography of the island twice, but frankly speaking, I had a hard time reading the text.

At first it seemed to me that Nemo deliberately did not notice my presence, but he placed some books on the shelves and came up to me:

“Professor Aronnax, we will approach the island of Mayotte tomorrow at dawn. Be ready to get up at five in the morning.”

“Okay, captain.”

Nemo looked at the map on the table and pointed to the east coast of the island.

“The colonial administration is located here in the town of Mamuzu. But we will approach the island from the north, most likely here or here.”

“As you wish.”

Perhaps the tone of my words was not neutral enough, because Nemo straightened and looked at me carefully.

Anger at myself and annoyance at my own weakness helped me to regain my composure.

“Captain, it doesn’t matter where you drop us off, we will easily reach the French administration with the help of the locals. But there are more important issues that need to be addressed.”

“For example?”

“Conseil and I will inevitably be questioned. What can we say and what cannot be told under any circumstances?”

“After Mr. Land’s revelations, there is little you can add, Monsieur Aronnax.”

“But still?”

Turning away, he walked around the room, then answered seriously:

“Do not report on the composition of the electric batteries. Do not mention the number of crew and any names of crew members that you have become familiar with. Don’t tell even approximately the coordinates of the island where the Nautilus docks. The rest is at your discretion.”

I nodded.

“I will be silent on these matters.”

Then I took a piece of paper, dipped a pen in the inkwell and began to write quickly.

“I’ll leave you the postal address of my Paris apartment and my address at the Museum of Natural History. At both addresses, correspondence reaches me quickly, but it can be intercepted by either the people of Spencer or their French colleagues. And here is the address of my friend Francois d’Orbigny. Letters sent to him will reach me late, but they will not be intercepted.”

Nemo’s lips curled in an ironic smile, and I added dryly to keep him from making a snide comment:

“This is in case Ishwari needs a doctor.”

I was afraid that the captain would flatly refuse my offer, but he looked at me carefully and to my surprise took the piece of paper. He skimmed it with his eyes and gently laid it on the table, and then, with a slow caressing motion, he ran his fingertips over the paper. I gritted my teeth and turned my back.

“Okay,” said the captain. “If Ishwari needs a doctor, I will call you.”

“I will have to lie a lot to protect myself and Conseil,” I added, hesitating. “Don’t be surprised by any ridiculous things that appear in the papers. And…I apologize in advance if anything I say seems to you…unfair and hurtful.”

“Professor, haven’t I released you from any obligation to me?” Nemo said coldly. “You can say whatever you want. I don’t care what the papers write about me.”

I leaned forward and carefully folded the map. I felt my patience was wearing thin – and I did not wish to say something I regret. Fortunately, the captain did not bother me anymore with his presence, and taking another book off the shelf, he left the library.

***

That evening I went to bed as usual, but I could not fall asleep. Closing my eyes, I listened for a long time to the low hum of the Nautilus’s engine, tirelessly cutting though the cutting through sea water and bringing us closer to Mayotte island each passing second. The submarine seemed alive to me, determined, and as unrelenting as its captain. Yet its electrical power had its charm – as with the cold beauty of the icebergs off that coast of Antarctica. I felt like I loved the submarine as I loved Ishwari, as I loved everything that had to do with Captain Nemo.

Conseil was breathing steadily and deeply in the other bed – he was not concerned with metaphysical questions. Silence resounded as the seconds and minutes ticked by, with drowsy visions and fleeting images, the night went on and on. It was so long and yet so short.

A crew member knocked on our cabin at five in the morning, but I had been up long before. I woke up Conseil and leaving him to wash and dress, I went to the deck of the Nautilus.

Before the submarine, a mountainous island of clearly volcanic origin rose in the gray, pre-dawn sky. Its slopes were completely covered in forest. The sea looked calm, but ahead I could see a foamy strip of breakers which marked the location of the coral reefs.

The Nautilus slowed and turned slightly to the west, looking for a passage between the reefs.

A few minutes later Conseil came up to the deck and stood beside me, taking obvious pleasure in breathing the fresh sea air.

“This is good,” he mumbled.

The sky was lightening before my eyes, and a scarlet strip of light broke out in the east. Mayotte’s dark forests were gradually coloured in green tones.

We weren’t alone on the deck for long. Soon Captain Nemo and the First Mate along with six crew members climbed up the stairs. Having exchanged a few words in their own language, the crew began to take the small boat from its housing.

I went over to them.

“Captain, please.”

Nemo turned to me. It seemed to me that he looked tired – as if he had not slept last night either.

“Yes, Monsieur Aronnax?”

“Please don’t risk the boat and your people. It’s already light, and the island is densely populated, you may be noticed. The French government will be as happy to take hostages from the Nautilus as the British government. The island is not more than a mile away, the sea is calm, we can easily swim.”

I turned to my servant.

“What do you say, Conseil?”

“Of course, we will,” he said confidently.

Nemo gave me a long searching look, and then said a few more words – and the crew, exchanging glances at each other, began to put the boat back. I noticed that one of them – a gray-eyed blonde of Slavic appearance – threw me a clearly approving glace and a little wink.

My time on the Nautilus was up. It was time to leave.

Stepping out of my shoes and taking off my coat, I bundled my shoes in my coat and twisted it into a kind of backpack and tied the sleeves around my neck. How many times did Conseil and I forge across rivers with such makeshift bags, raising our guns over our heads! Conseil did the same with his shoes. The crew of the Nautilus silently watched our preparations.

When I finished, I turned to the captain to say goodbye – and suddenly found him very close, literally a step away from me. For a moment I had no words.

“Well, goodbye, Professor Aronnax,” he said, holding out his hand to me, for the first time in our acquaintance.

His palm was dry and hot.

“Goodbye, Mr Dakkar,” I replied.

And then I turned around and jumped into the water.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

At the end of May 1869, Conseil and I returned to Paris. As I expected, our return made a lot of noise. Journalists would not give us peace, and my acquaintances – not only close ones, but also distant ones – excitedly invited me to dinner.

I did not want to see anyone. Having visited by closest friends, I shut myself in, explaining that I was extremely tired and sick.

I was summoned to the Palace of Justice several times, and I had to make full use of my skills in deception and evasion. I reported that my abduction was organised by Colonel Spencer and described in detail him, his men, and the country house where I was held. I said that I had to flee south of France and spent several months on the run, every minute fearing for my life. I also told them that I decided to leave France and sailed on the ‘Naiad’ to India, where my old friend Jean-Paul Lacroix, secretary of the Indian Geographical Society, lived. So, weaving lies with the truth, I drew a plausible picture of what had happened to me, where many of the details could be checked and verified to be true.

I went further, confessing to the abduction of Princess Ishwari, saying that I intended to flee with her to Pondicherry and then to France. According to my words, I hired a Portuguese merchant ship, whose captain was a real smuggler and pirate. The captain of the merchant ship became captivated by the girl’s beauty and refused to take us to French territory in India – or anywhere else. For a few days, our lives were hanging by a thread; if it were not for the intervention of the beautiful princess, Conseil and I would have simply been killed. Giving in to Ishwari’s numerous requests, the captain took us to Mayotte where he threw us overboard a mile from the shore.

While painting this story for the journalists, I did not forget to praise the beauty, nobility, and good heart of the young princess of Bundelkhand.

Of course, Colonel Spencer could easily have refuted my words, but none of the newspapers I read gave a contrary account of my adventure. There was no mention in any paper of the Nautilus or the failed operation in Siolim. Also, none of the journalists ever correlated Captain Nemo and Prince Dakkar. The British government chose to remain silent, and I was not going to break it.

Half of the newspapers called me the hapless agent of the French Crown, the second half wrote “the professor who lost his reasoning to passion for an Indian princess”. My reputation was hopelessly ruined, now no reasonable father would give his daughter to me.

I admit, those days I felt terrible. Coming home from the next interrogation or after the next interview, I felt an overwhelming desire to rinse my mouth with soap. I was sick of my own lies, of the predatory, dirty curiosity of the newsmen, of the indirect sympathetic looks from my friends. I knew that these dark times would have their end, just like everything else in our lives; both good and bad. And indeed, the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war (see notes at end!) temporarily displaced all other news from the papers. They finally forgot about me.

I returned to the Museum of Natural History and plunged into work. I systematized and catalogued the richest collections I collected during the six-month expedition to Nebraska in 1866-1867. I published the results in the Herald of the French Geographical Society.

Due to numerous requests from my colleagues, including the director of the Museum, I began to write a book detailing my underwater voyage, which I decided to call ‘Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’. Being quite accurate in describing our adventures, I kept my promise made to Captain Nemo, and kept silent about the composition of the electric batteries, the crew members, and the sections of the Nautilus for the crew members. I know that as a result, the description of the Nautilus turned out not too plausible, but it did not bother me much – I told all that I could tell the world.

I no longer felt miserable because my conscience was calm, and my life was active. But the world had lost its colour, its excitement, as if I was looking at it through dusty glass. I knew it was inevitable that my soul would be pained; like an opium smoker who decided to quit his addiction. However, month after month passed, and nothing changed. In the mornings I woke up without joy, and passed the days absorbed with work and studies, but in the evening, I did not know what to do with myself because the usual entertainment was wearisome. In the midst of a friendly party, I have repeatedly caught myself thinking that I want to be at home in silence and peace, and quickly go to bed.

So, a year passed. On June 15th, 1870, as usual, I returned home from the Museum of Natural History and Conseil, taking my hat, said in a strange voice:

“Monsieur…a messenger came an hour ago who brought a letter.”

“From whom?” I asked absently.

“It was not signed. But I think Monsieur will know when he sees it.”

I abruptly turned to my servant, and he was already passing me a simple envelope of thick light beige paper – paper made from algae, whose colour and texture I will not forget until death. On the envelope, my home address was written in the Gothic handwriting of Captain Nemo and below was written: “To personally deliver to Professor Aronnax”.

“Paper knife,” I said with difficulty.

Conseil like a magician handed me a knife – apparently, he had one at the ready. I opened the envelope.

Inside, a single line was written: “Le Havre, Digue Nord, June 20, 1:00am”.

I looked at the message, not hearing anything over the pounding of my heart, and did not immediately realise that Conseil had asked me a question.

“Something has happened?” He asked carefully.

I handed him the piece of paper.

“Yes. There is only one reason why Captain Nemo would call me – most likely, Ishwari is seriously ill.”

“I will go and pack our things?”

“Wait”

I went to my office and sat down at the table, squeezing my temples with my fingers.

“Tomorrow morning go to Saint-Lazare station and buy one second class ticket to Le Havre for June the 17th.”

“One?”

“Yes. I want you to stay in Paris and help keep my trip a secret. I don’t want anyone to know or even suspect it. Who knows if I am still being watched.”

“As Monsieur pleases.”

“Tomorrow, in the Museum, I will pretend to be seriously ill. Starting the day after tomorrow, tell all visitors that I have a very high fever and will not be accepting anyone.”

I described to him the symptoms of severe measles.

“Very well,” Conseil nodded.

“If I don’t come back within three weeks, you can announce that I’ve disappeared. But not a word to anyone about the letter.”

I opened the closet and started to put in a bag the tools I kept with me after I ceased to practice medicine – a stethoscope, syringe, lancet, rubber tourniquet, a couple of doses of opium.

“I’ll pack luggage for a three-day trip?” asked Conseil, watching my preparations.

“Yes, no more, I want to be light.”

The warm rays of the setting sun penetrated through my office. I was filled with anxious anticipation. I was alive again – and again, ahead of me, trouble was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted before, the original author stated that, in this story, Aronnax, Conseil and Ned journey on the Nautilus between 1868 - 1869 instead of 1867 - 1868. This is because she references historical events such as the Franco-Prussian war (19 Jul 1870 – 10 May 1871) in her text and did not realise her mistake until she had completed the text. Therefore, she was forced to bring the dates of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea forward by 1 year.
> 
> Now, as I said from the beginning - I am an amateur translator, and I did not see her note regarding the date change. Subsequently, I thought it was just a minor oversight on her part (I should have checked!) and thus moved all the dates to be inline with the Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - the original story. 
> 
> So, in this fictitious Jules Verne Universe of 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' the Franco-Prussian war occurred between 19 Jul 1869 – 10 May 1870. 
> 
> I argue if Jules Verne can be marvelously inconsistent with his dates (see TTLUS vs Mysterious Island dates), SO CAN I. !!! -_- !!!
> 
> Happy reading.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

The plan worked perfectly. The next day, several people noticed my feverish state in the museum – I heard questions about my health even before I started to clutch my head and complain of chills. By evening, I was shaking for real – so that I myself would not have doubted that I was falling ill if I did not know the true reason for my unsteadiness.

On the morning of June 17th, I left the house through the back door and wandered around for a long time, getting rid of possible surveillance. Like I did almost two years ago, I managed to get to the train station and get into a carriage just a few minutes before departure. A day later I arrived in Le Havre.

I set foot on Digue Nord bay a quarter of an hour before the appointed time. The night was dark and windy, in the sky hung low dark rain clouds. To the left of the pier were the extensive moorings of Anse de Joinville, to the right numerous signal lights denoted the journey of ships across the English Channel. Save for me, there was not a single living thing in sight.

I stood, looking out over the ocean, and waited. The tension of the last few days had wound me tight. I felt a strange, aching excitement that I was returning to the Nautilus, the painful anxiety for Ishwari and fear that I may not be able to help her. A cold, damp gust of wind beat me in the face, my coat billowing out behind me.

Precisely at 1:00am, a boat with oarsmen came up to the pier from the ocean side, and I heard my name called.

I recognised Stephan’s voice and waved in response. The boat turned aft, and the next wave lifted it almost flush with the base of the pier, I jumped in. The crew immediately started paddling, and we traveled quickly into the open ocean.

“And you are punctual, Monsieur Aronnax,” the First Mate remarked with grim approval in his voice.

“How is Ishwari?” I asked.

“Sick the fourth month. Yes, you will see for yourself.”

My heart was again squeezed with cold alarm.

The searchlight of the Nautilus was not on and such it was practically invisible in the night, so I only noticed the submarine when we got close to it. The deck was lit by only two dim lanterns. The crew members who met the boat seemed like black ghosts. Grabbing my bag, I got out of the boat, stepped towards the hatch, and almost ran into Captain Nemo.

“Professor Aronnax,” he said with a strange expression.

“You called for me, captain.”

“Yes. Follow me.”

We went down and along the corridor to Ishwari’s cabin.

The room was lit with a night light, it was warm and stuffy. The girl was reclining in bed, leaning back on the pillows, her neck covered with the fur stole. I looked into her face with agonising anxiety – but, although it was haggard, with dark shadows around the eyes, it did not bear any sign of deadly disease.

“Good evening, princess,” I said softy.

“Good evening, Pro-”

And then she was overwhelmed by a hoarse, gurgling coughing fit – indicative of bronchitis.

“It’s ok.”

I turned to Nemo.

“Captain, I need a bright light and a spoon.”

He pressed a button and stepped into the corridor. The matte white light fixture under the ceiling flashed and flooded the cabin in a cold, sharp light. I opened my bag, pulled out the stethoscope and put it on.

“Child, I need to listen to you. Take off your robe and turn your back to me. Don’t be afraid, I’m a doctor.”

I didn’t notice how I had lapsed back into the “doctor” voice – gentle and at the same time impassive.

Ishwari looked at me in askance, and I saw that she was embarrassed. But then she threw back the blanket, got out of bed, turned her back to me, and then, only after that, dropped the dark robe from her thin shoulders. When the captain returned with a spoon, I was already listening to her lungs and heart, saying “breathe” and “don’t breathe”.

Giving me the spoon, Nemo gave me a piercing look, but fortunately he kept silent. I let Ishwari get dressed, then examined her throat and tongue.

The clinical picture was more than clear.

“Rest, princess,” I said gently, taking off the stethoscope and turning off the overhead light. “Today I won’t bother you anymore.”

Nemo nodded toward his cabin, and we both went in. The captain closed the door tightly behind him and turned to me.

“Speak,” he ordered.

I gathered my thoughts.

“Ishwari has severe bronchitis and a sore throat. Her lungs are not yet affected, but it is a matter of time. If nothing is done, it will very soon turn into pneumonia, emphysema or tuberculosis. At the moment there is no immediate threat to her life, but decisive measures are needed, otherwise it will be too late.”

 “What do you call decisive measures?”

“Ishwari needs sunlight, dry heat, fresh air and medicinal herbs to cleanse the bronchi. And goat’s milk and honey to strength her vitals.”

I hesitated, but then I added:

“As long as she is on the Nautilus, she won’t get better. If you leave her cabin closed, it becomes too stuffy, and if you air it, it will become too cold and damp for her present state. Ishwari needs a dry Mediterranean climate, the climate of her homeland to recover.”

The captain folded his arms across his chest and angrily frowned.

“Forget it,” he said sharply.

“I do not suggest returning her to Bundelkhand. There are similar climates in many countries.”

“It does not matter. Ishwari will remain on the Nautilus. So, think of something else.”

“Then you will have to anchor somewhere along the Greek coast and make friends with the neighbouring workers,” I replied with annoyance. “And hope that the local healers are well versed in medicinal herbs.”

“No.”

“Captain, are you sure you don’t have any reliable friends on land…”

“I don’t have any friends on land,” Nemo replied dully.

“Here you are mistaken. You have at least one friend on land, perhaps there may be more.”

“I don’t have any friends on land,” the captain said coldly.

The string inside me stretched to a dangerous limit. I knew I would regret my words, but I could not stop.

“Great!” I said. “Then what do you expect from me? A miracle? Magic? That I heal Ishwari with a snap of my fingers? No doctor, unless he’s a madman or a complete charlatan, will tell you that it is good to live in stuffiness, cold and dampness with bronchitis, not seeing the sunlight for weeks and without medication!”

“Enough!” Nemo said sharply.

“I haven’t finished yet,” I continued, raising my voice. “Why did you call me, captain? If you are not going to follow my advice. Did you want me to see for myself that you’d rather watch your daughter die than believe the people who care about you?”

The captain’s face was distorted by anger and his eyes flashed with dark fire. He walked towards me, and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me, but he just took me by the shoulders very hard.

“I said enough, Professor Aronnax!”

It struck me like a spark, and the string that had been stretched to its limit broke, and all my rage fled from me. I recoiled from Nemo, almost tripped over a desk and collapsed into a chair next to me, trying to pull myself together. I was shaking, unable to speak – I’d lost control, it was awful. Nemo silently looked at me – probably with anger and disgust, but I could not tell because I did not dare raise my eyes to him.

“Have you calmed down?” he asked half a minute later.

“No,” I muttered.

He came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. With a firm, confident gesture, like a leader who decided to cheer up a confused recruit. And, strange as it may seem, I did feel a wave of peace – at least feeling like a could speak calmly again.

“And now?”

I took a deep breath.

“Now I am.”

I knew I’d be painfully ashamed of the scene tomorrow, but now I just felt stunned.

“Do I understand correctly that you suggest that I entrust Ishwari’s treatment to you?”

“No,” I said softy. “I would be honoured to treat your daughter, but it’s too dangerous. There are too many eyes on me.”

“I’m glad you understand that.”

“I have a friend, Francois d’Orbigny, you’ve heard of him. He was a friend of my father’s; I’ve known him since childhood. I lived with him for six months when I ran away from Spencer. But, except for you and Conseil, no one else knows that we are somehow connected. I’ve never mentioned him; I never even wrote to him when we returned from Mayotte.”

I rubbed my forehead, gathering my thoughts.

“d’Orbigny has a spacious and well-kept house on the shores of the Gulf of Lyon just fifty toises from the coast. He’s raised five children and did not lose a single one in childhood from illness. He has three daughters, all married. His housekeeper, Madeleine Brugnon, is a kind and friendly woman who knows herbs well. It is very beautiful…the sea, rocks and vineyards. Ishwari will be fine there.”

Nemo looked at me with either irony or pity.

“Do you really think I will trust my daughter to a man I don’t know at all?”

“You know him,” I answered. “Twelve years ago, you saved his life and that of his family when…you still ruled Bundelkhand. He would never give you away – neither you nor your daughter. I can rarely say such things about people, but I would not hesitate to trust my life, honour and soul to Francois d’Orbigny.”

“Is that so,” said the captain.

He turned away from me and walked around the room deep in thought. I saw that he was strongly considering my words. Did he believe me and my knowledge of people, or did the shadow of the past make him look at things differently? Finally, Nemo turned to me and said:

“Well, Professor Aronnax, you have managed to convince me. We will go to Cassis. I want to look this man in the eye myself. Please accompany me.”

“I am at your service, captain.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the shorter Chapter. There is only one Chapter left and then the Epilogue, for Part 1.
> 
> Then I shall start translating Part 2! :)

Chapter 17:

From Le Havre to Gibraltar – the gateway to the Mediterranean – was about five hundred leagues, and we passed them in four days. And for each of these days I would not hesitate to give a year of my Parisian life.

I suggested to Captain Nemo that Ishwari wrap up warmly and still air her cabin. From soda, salt and whale oil, all diluted in hot water, I prepared a solution for gargling, and its regular use alleviated the symptoms of angina. I spent several hours a day with the princess – I told her about d’Orbigny and his family, recalled my childhood pranks, and funny stories from student life. While her cabin aired, we moved into the saloon and looked through the crystal windows into the depths of the sea, lit by the powerful searchlight of the Nautilus. I drew fish, shellfish, and sea stars, and her. Ishwari was delighted by every drawing. It seems to me that it was not my artistic skill that struck her – it was more than average – but rather, the very opportunity to see how, from several lines drawn with a pencil or black ink, an image appears that looks so much like the real one.

Captain Nemo and I met every day, and he treated me very kindly, even warmly. Twice he invited me to share a meal with him and asked me a lot about what was going on in France. So, I told him about the tragic events of the Paris Commune (see Notes at end), which I had seen in part, about a noble but unsuccessful attempt to build a society of social justice, which first exhausted itself in strife and discord, and then ended by the shots from Thiers’ cannons. I noticed that my story made a deep impression on him.

That evening, Nemo sat down at the organ, the music of which had only been in my memories for a long time, and began to play Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor Bach. I watched enchanted as his long fingers slid across the keys, and it seemed to me that is was not organ pipes, but my soul crying over fallen heroes, over the tragic injustice of the world, in which the desire for freedom inevitably turns into suffering and death – whether in India, France, or a thousand other places on Earth.

Other days we talked about scientific discoveries – among other things, I told him about the periodic system of chemical elements, compiled by the Russian chemist Mendeleev two years ago. The captain was fascinated by this idea – especially the ability to predict the properties of elements that had not yet been discovered. I saw that he was keenly interested in news from the outside world, of which I was a messenger, and perhaps he was even glad to see me personally – but alas! – all this only further plunged my soul into the abyss of painful affection, which I firmly decided to keep in check, but which threatened to capture me entirely.

We were due to enter Gibraltar on the morning of June 24th. Late night before, I was in my cabin about to go to bed when there was a sudden knock at my door and Captain Nemo entered.

“Professor, are you still awake? Follow me, you have to see it.”

Intrigued, I followed the captain.

We climbed the stairs to the deck of the Nautilus. The submarine was drifting along the surface, rolling slightly on the soft, gentle waves. At first, I was struck by the vast darkness that reigned above – the searchlight was not on, there was no moon, and the night seemed impenetrable. But not half a minute later, my eyes adjusted, and I saw stars in the sky – innumerable sets of stars.

“Professor, come here,” Nemo called me.

I saw that he stood at the housing of the glass lens of the searchlight, capable of illuminating the sea water half a mile around, but now turned off and dark.

“Sit down, you’ll be comfortable,” he said, and I obediently sat down, leaning my back against the metal housing.

The captain sat down next to me, so close that I could feel the warmth coming from his body on my shoulder.

“In a few minutes, your eyes will get used to the darkness and you will be able to see several hundred stars,” Nemo continued. “In half an hour, there will be more than three thousand of them. Look!”

I admit, at first, I was excited by his closeness much more than the beauty of the starry sky, but the more I looked up, the deeper the abyss opened. Within a few minutes, I clearly saw the misty band of the Milky Way, the broad bright strip split in half by dark wispy clouds, and the small gathering of the Pleiades. My eyes easily found the unmistakable, familiar outlines of the constellations.

“When I look into this sky, I think I look into the eyes of God,” Nemo whispered.

I felt the excitement of the captain, for the night over the ocean was beautiful. The majestic beauty of the universe – all these countless suns, separated by vast distances unfathomable, doomed to eternal loneliness – filled my soul with awe and sadness. I imagined myself as one, a tiny speck in the dark sky, flying in the eternal cycle of the Milky Way. But the proximity of the captain did not allow me to dissolve, it warmed me like a fire, protecting the traveler in the cold autumn night. I was both sad and happy in this moment.

At least an hour passed by in comfortable silence, but then Nemo covered my hand with his for a moment, and he said:

“Professor, it’s time for us to continue our journey. Come downstairs, we will enter Gibraltar at a depth of fifty meters.”

“Yes, captain,” I said softly and rose to my feet.

The night no longer seemed impenetrable, the deck was lit by ghostly gray starlight.

“Thank you,” I added after some hesitation.

Nemo did not answer, and I walked to the hatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per previous Note, historical events have been moved forward a year. So the Paris Commune occurred 18 March – 28 May 1870 instead of 1871.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

From Gibraltar to the coast of the Gulf of Lyon, we cruised for two days, keeping at a depth of fifty to one hundred meters and never rising to the surface. Only around eight o’clock on the evening of the 25th of June did the Nautilus surface briefly so that we could determine our location. As it turned out, we were about two leagues from the coast of Marseille. Immediately after, the captain had the submarine dive to the bottom and killed the engines.

We spread a large map of the Mediterranean coast of France on the table in the library. I found Cassis on it and roughly indicated the coordinates of the brown rocks that served as a reference point for my friend’s house. I confess, I could not figure out if I was anxious or excited. How will our meeting with d’Orbigny go? I had no doubt that Francois would welcome Princess Ishwari and would cure her if Nemo decides to leave her in his care – but what if the captain does not approve of my friend? Would his house not be good enough for him or d’Orbigny’s servants not reliable enough? How do I treat the princess then? Where can I find refuge for her?

At about ten o’clock at night, Ishwari and I climbed the narrow stairs that led straight to the lifeboat, where six crew members were waiting for us. By that time, the Nautilus was only a mile from the coast and, travelling at a slow speed, dived to the bottom. Unscrewing the bolts connecting the boat to the submarine, we quickly rose to the surface.

If it were my first time in the waters of the Gulf of Lyon, we would have inevitably gotten lost, but it was not in vain that I went out with d’Orbigny to the sea on his boat, helping with fishing. I was well aware of the coastline near Cassis, even at dusk I was well versed in the labyrinth of capes and narrow bays that cut the coast. After a quarter of an hour, the boat entered the nearest jetty to my friend’s house. The three of us jumped out to shore, the rowers stayed in the boat.

When we got to the house, it was already dark. The black crowns of the trees were barely visible through the illuminated window on the second flow. I gently rang the ship’s bell over the gates with a racing heat, and the clear rings echoed throughout the night.

I heard the front door open and there was a rustle of footsteps on the path.

“Who’s there?” asked d’Orbigny from the darkness, not approaching us.

“Francois, it’s me. And I’m not alone.”

“Pierre?”

I heard him strike a match, and a kerosene lamp glowed in his hands. d’Orbigny quickly went to the gate, undid the bolt and let us in.

“Forgive me, Francois, I fall down on your head again after a year of absence,” I guilty mumbled.

Instead of answering, he raised the lamp higher, looked sharply at Nemo, at Ishwari – and again bolted the bolt.

“It’s nothing, Pierre. Since you sailed on the Naiad, I have been preparing for something like this. Please follow me, gentlemen.”

We walked along the path to the house and found ourselves in the dark hall. d’Orbigny put the lamp on the table and lit two six-tiered chandeliers. The room was lit with a soft warm light.

Suddenly, I heard the rustle of skirts and uncertain steps on the creaking stairs to the second floor. Francois looked up and said loudly, sharply:

“Madeleine, stay upstairs! This my business!”

“Okay,” a muddled and slightly trembling female voice answered us, and the stairs creaked again.

“I suppose,” my friend added softer, “the less people who see you here, the better. Sit down, I’ll light the hearth.”

I glanced at the captain and his daughter. They both looked at d’Orbigny – Nemo intently, Ishwari with obvious curiosity.

A couple of minutes later, the firewood crackled cheerfully in the hearth, and a resinous woody scent spread around the room. Francois brought a bottle of Bordeaux and deftly poured it into four glasses.

“I will not pretend that I did not recognise you, Mister Dakkar,” he said. “Twelve years ago, you saved the life of my family, I have not forgotten that. How can I help?”

“It’s good to see you well, Monsieur d’Orbigny,” Nemo answered with unexpected softness. “It is a pity that your project for the bridge over the Hooghly never came to fruition.”

My friend froze.

“You remember about his project?”

“I have a good memory.”

They looked at each other, and it seemed to me that for a few moments, blades clashed in their eyes, but then Francois smiled and spoke a few words in the dialect of the Nautilus crew. I admit, I was so stunned that I almost dropped my glass.

Nemo responded in the same language – and there was no longer tension in the atmosphere.

Ishwari took a sip from her glass and suddenly fell into a strong fit of coughing. I decided that this was a good time to announce the reason for our visit.

“Francois, let me introduce you to Princess Ishwari, of Bundelkhand and the daughter of Mister Dakkar,” I said. “The princess is seriously ill, and I ask you to give her your hospitality and aid with treatment.”

“Yes, a bad cough,” muttered d’Orbigny, frowning. “What is the diagnosis, Pierre?”

“Sore throat and bronchitis, lungs are not affected yet.”

“Madam, sit closer to the hearth, the night is cold,” my friend said softly, pushing one of the carved wooden benches towards the fire. “Of course, I will do everything I can. If the lungs are not affected, everything will be fine – if you remember, Matilda and Paul both had bronchitis and there were no complications.”

“Thank-you, Francois. I am in your debt.”

“It’s nothing,” and he looked at the captain. “I’m glad it was successful for you in Siolim. It’s about time Colonel Spencer got his due.”

We were silent for a couple of minutes, only the fire crackled in the hearth.

“Are your servants reliable, Monsieur d’Orbigny?” asked Nemo after a pause.

“They are reliable. In addition, we will not tempt them with unnecessary information,” he answered with a soft grin. “I had a cousin, Michael de la Fuy, even in our family he was considered a black sheep. According to family legend, fate took him to Morocco, where he married the daughter of a local merchant. Child, I will call you Marie de la Fuy. If the need arises, we can make fake documents in that name.”

“You can make fake documents?” I asked with surprise. “What else don’t I know about you, Francois?”

“Pierre, you know the captain of the ‘Naiad’ well, don’t act surprised. I have connections among the smugglers, and they have connections with an even more dubious public. I am not the king of the underworld of Marseille, if that’s what you mean to imply,” d’Orbigny said, laughing.

He poured us another glass of wine. Ishwari was sitting by the hearth, with her back to the fire, and did not take her eyes off my friend. Her face was lit with a soft half-smile, and I realised she liked Francois.

“How will your family react to the sudden appearance of your great-niece?” asked Nemo. “This will not cause suspicion?”

“You don’t know Michael. No, it will not cause suspicion. Discontent – maybe. But as the head of the family, it’s up to me to decide whether to accept a cousin’s daughter or not.”

d’Orbigny tossed a few more logs into the heath and turned the embers with a poker. The flame that had faded flared again, throwing a strong glare on his face.

“Although, I reckon everything will be fine – the d’Orbignys don’t abandon their own, when when fate scatters us over the world,” he added thoughtfully.

I noticed that the captain’s face had subtly softened. He looked at my friend without caution for the first time, and it seemed to me he was ready to smile.

“Very well. The I expect letters from you at the main post office of Le Havre. Address them to Nicolas Duval. I can pick up mail about once a month, perhaps a little more frequently.”

Francois bowed playfully.

“Mr Duval will need a large bag to carry all the correspondence that goes to his name in a month.”

They started talking about the past – about bridges that had never been built, about engineering solutions for muddy banks and silty rivers, and soon I stopped following their conversation. I watched how the soft flickering light fell on the faces of the captain and d’Orbigny, how the lights of the candles danced in Ishwari’s eyes and felt an inexplicable pleasure from the fact that I was alive. Everything seemed bright and warm in these moments – the tart taste of wine, the resinous smell of burning logs, the cozy crackling of the hearth, the unhurried flow of conversation. I knew that I would remember this night – later, when the cold again clenched my soul, and the colours of the world faded. Like how I would remember the starry abyss above the deck of the Nautilus, the sobbing of the organ under the captain’s long fingers and the flowing blue of the ocean waters illuminated by the search light of the submarine.

It was about half past one in the morning when Francois looked at the clock with obvious regret.

“In an hour and a half, dawn will come. The sea near the shores is usually clear and thus the fishermen head out early. I’m afraid that now hardly any of them will mistake the Nautilus for a whale. Madam, let me show you to your room. Mister Dakkar, I would be glad if you could join us.”

Nemo and his daughter rose to their feet. d’Orbigny took a kerosene lamp from the table and moved cautiously up the stairs to the second floor, the steps creaked softly under his feet. Ishwari followed closely, and the captain behind her. I remained seated, watching them go.

About ten minutes later my friend returned.

“I left them to say goodbye to each other,” he said quietly, and turned to me. “Pierre, I don’t even know what to tell you.”

I stood up.

“Francois, forgive me. I know, I decided everything for you. Unfortunately, I had not time or opportunity to consult with you. You are the only person I can trust and with whom the princess will really be safe. But if this is unacceptable for you, I will understand and seek other options.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” d’Orbigny said, annoyed, “If this were unacceptable to me, I would have reported it three hours ago. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What?”

He looked at me searchingly.

“This man has completely bewitched you.”

I felt my face heat. For a few moments, panic swept over me. What was he talking about? Have I somehow betrayed myself? But them I collected my thoughts and pulled myself together. Francois could not guess. No one could. In the end, I had a good excuse. “The professor who lost his reasoning to passion for an Indian princess”.  

“I hope you didn’t take all these nightmarish articles seriously in our tabloids a year ago. I do care deeply for Mademoiselle Ishwari, but I swear…”

d’Orbigny’s look became stern and piercing, like a steel blade.

“Pierre. Who do you want to deceive, me? – you can’t. I have known you since childhood. And I know about your very tender friendship with Arsene Lumien too.”

“Francois, my God! We were seventeen years old! And I have never since…”

“That’s what I am saying.”

I could not look into his eyes from shame, so I stared at the floor. The pendulum on the wall quietly knocked, the blood in ear ears thudded loudly.

“This is fate,” I finally said with difficulty. “Or maybe a curse. It’s too late to change anything. I tried…but I just feel dead. There, in Paris, I just feel dead.”

“So, you’re on his team now?”

I shook my head,

“No, Francois. I will return to Paris, and everything will be as it was. He does not know and will never know.”

Above us, on the second floor, a door clicked quietly, and we heard the captain’s footsteps – first along the corridor, then down the stairs. I turned away, trying to cope with my anxiety. Thank goodness that it was dark in the hall and the night was dark.

“Ishwari is tired and went to bed,” said Nemo, walking down the hall. “Professor Aronnax, we have to go.”

“Yes, Captain,” I replied, without turning around.

“Monsieur d’Orbigny, I am pleased to meet you and thank you for the hospitality extended to my daughter. I won’t say goodbye to you.”

“I am glad to see you, Mister Dakkar. Everything will be fine.”

I finally found the strength to turn around. Francois was already at the doorstep with a kerosene lamp in his hand.

We went out on the porch under the gray predawn sky. There was a complete lack of wind and not a single left moved in the trees. In the crystal silence, a bird called shyly and out steps along the path sounded.

For me, the journey back to Paris was short and inevitable.


	19. Chapter 19

Epilogue:

The next morning, after a late breakfast, I went to wander around the Nautilus. Anxiety gnawed at me, and I could not be still or study. I wanted to see the captain – but I was afraid that I would betray myself, I was tormented by the uncertainty of my position aboard the Nautilus – but it seemed even more painful to hear from him again that nothing else bound us. Through reason, I decided that in my current state of mind it was better that I wait in my cabin, and not seek out the captain, but the walls of the room seemed to suffocate me. I went to the dining room, then to the library, then to the saloon – but I never saw anyone. Perhaps I would not see the captain until we approached Le Havre – it had happened before, where he had disappeared for long days at a time, and Conseil, Ned Land and I were left to ourselves.

I walked slowly through the saloon again, admiring the paintings and precious trinkets – shells, corals, pearls, starfish and sponges. The gentle splash of the fountain, beating out from the giant clam in the middle of the room, calmed me and brought my thoughts and nerves under control. For a good quarter of an hour, I wandered from case to case, looking at the priceless exhibits collected by Nemo, and as if waiting for something – the lights in the ceiling of the saloon darkened, there was a slight noise, and the crystal window opened, and I, as always, forgot about everything – mesmerised.

The Nautilus travelled to Gibraltar at a depth of about thirty meters. The midday sun, almost at its zenith, illuminated the clear waters of the Mediterranean, almost as well as the searchlight. A variety of fish of all sizes and colours – sea loaches covered with yellow and white speckles, Anthias, richly coloured in all shades of red from pale pink to bright ruby, elegant bluish Heylin, silver azure Dorade with striped fins, and many others. I was standing by the window, immersed in their movements, trying to commit them to memory.

Then, behind me, there were slow steps and, turning around, I saw Captain Nemo.

“It is impossible to get tired of this sight,” I said softy, unable to hide my emotion.

“You’ll never get tired of it, Professor Aronnax.”

“You’re right. I just don’t have time.”

I tried to make my words playful, but sadness slipped into them against my will.

“No, that’s not why," said the captain. “You can stay on the Nautilus if you want. And the sea will delight you every day.”

I quickly looked at Nemo – to see whether he joked at me, but the captain only looked at me intensely and seriously.

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“As much as I want to stay, Mister Dakkar, for the rest of the world, I’m lying at home in Paris, seriously ill with measles. If it becomes known that I suddenly disappeared, it may lead certain people to certain conclusions, and it will endanger Ishwari. And her safety and well-being are above all else for me.

“Do you love Ishwari, Professor?”

I bowed my head, collecting my thoughts. I did not want to lie to him. It seemed to me important to express my feelings as sincerely and accurately as possible.

“Yes and no. I love Ishwari, but not in the way the newspapers made out. I do not and will never have children, but I love Ishwari as I would have my own daughter.”

It seemed that my answer surprised the captain. He looked at me closely, and then he looked out the window. Manta rays competed in speed with the Nautilus, but I doubt that he saw them.

“Then, after three or fours months you will be able to leave Paris without causing any suspicion?” he continued after a few minutes. “Your underwater tour is still far from complete. You have not been to the Arctic Ocean, have not seen the Great Barrier Reef off the eastern coast of Australia, have not descended into the deepest trough of the world’s oceans near the Mariana Islands, and you don’t know what kind of bizarre life flourishes near deep-sea volcanoes.”

I smiled faintly.

“Captain, you persuade a man dying from thirst to drink some water.”

“Is that so? But you won’t say you are dying of thirst,” Nemo answered mockingly, but his eyes flashed with golden sparks. “Let’s say Le Havre, Dig Nor, the beginning of October this year. Will you come?”

“You know, captain, I will come anywhere at your first word.”

“Then finish your earthly affairs. Because then I will call you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes Part 1! I will start translating Part 2 (Black Tiger, White Eagle Part 1) soon :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and gave Kudos. I am certain the Original Author appreciates it and, I have to say, I appreciate the encouragement, and that people are enjoying the story, as Translator!!!
> 
> If anyone has any questions about any part of the story please don't hesitate to ask. The Original Author has written notes and also replied to comments on 'ficbook' which I can translate, or can ask her directly :)
> 
> As per the tags, the rating will steadily be increasing. 
> 
> Stay tuned!


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